Any Chance Auction, Part 5, by Joe Doe

[imreadonly2]

BTW, Joe wanted to note that Carl Bradford's wonderful TRYING ON A COLLAR story that inspired this one just got another chapter today. Thanks to Hooked 6 for his comments, which helped inspire this chapter!

LIVESTOCK ENTRANCE

I hesitated as I realized that I was actually going to enter The Big D by walking up a dark livestock chute, but Rita was having none of it. “In ya’ go, little piggy!” she said, slapping my bare bottom hard with her open palm.   It was a stinging spank, particularly over the fresh welts on my ass.

Rita slapped my ass harder than she needed to, but I told myself she was just trying to help me get into character, and make me feel like “slave pussy.” It was working, and the feeling both thrilled and terrified me. But I also knew that deep-down, Rita was enjoying the role reversal. I had gotten a little drunk last night, and was more than a little obnoxious with Rosco and Skeeter. Now it was Rita’s turn, and she was relishing her absolute power over her bratty, more successful little sister.

The slats on the chute floor were wooden, the bars on the side an industrial green metal. The incline was slight, and I only got a few inches before I stopped at another green gate.

Rita, standing to my left, was looking around. She finally located the RING BUZZER FOR SERVICE sign and pressed the button.

A loud, obnoxious buzzer went off.

“Looks like you got the wrong answer,” I joked, trying to break the tension.

Rita said nothing, but smiled at me in a peculiar way. It wasn’t amusement; more like contempt, or scorn. I had gotten the look a lot at dinner last night, when I was talking about my houses and cars, or when I was flirting with Rosco or Skeeter.

Now here it was again. Her “Oh, you think you’re so smart!” smile, maybe mixed in with a little “You’ll get yours, someday!” vengefulness. I felt a twinge of apprehension as I began to wonder just how pissed off my sister was.

I looked at the metal green door in front of me. I tried to look around the green bars to see beyond the door, but couldn’t see anything. The incline was very slight, but I gripped one of the horizontal slats on the floor with my toes, as much out of nervousness as for support.

“Wow, this thing looks scary. It’s so… industrial. Why are we waiting here, anyway? Why don’t we just use the front door?”

Rita, playing on her phone, didn’t bother to look up. “Because yer’ a dirty little piggy, and you clomped in the mud.”

I looked down at my feet, which looked like two brown boots. “Geez, they’re filthy.“

Rita didn’t look at me as she scrolled her phone. “Course they are. Rosco says all slave sluts are sows. He says that’s why y’all use so much fann-cee pur-fume,” she said, pronouncing “fancy perfume” with as much sarcasm as her obvious disinterest in our conversation could muster.

“I’ll have you know, it’s a scent, not a perfume, and I bought it in Paris.”

Rita, playing on her phone, didn’t respond.

“It cost me 400 euros,” I said.

“Enjoy it while ya’ can, slave girl,” she said, still not making eye contact. Her voice wasn’t angry. Her conversational tone portrayed the sort of casual disgust one might have when talking about road kill or a termite infestation.

“I’m not a slave girl,” I protested.

Rita, scrolling and swiping, didn’t bother to answer me. Or, to be more accurate, her not bothering to answer me was her answer.

Rita’s calm, and her ability to discuss the real estate aspects of the property, and extoll the “sweet” dividend, was familiar to me. To her, the massive building in front of us was simply another big-box store, the place her husband worked at. It was the same cocky arrogance I had felt last night when I had called The Big D a “shithole”, much to Rosco’s annoyance. But the world was a very different place when I was wearing my imported Dolce and Gabban dress and carrying my Valentino purse stuffed with no limit Platinum cards. Now I was a naked slave girl, and I was going to pay the price for my dismissive insolence. Shivering naked in front of the green doors, I was already learning to respect the awesome power of The Big D Slave Market.

I could feel my heart beating, and my breath was coming in short gasps. I looked at the metal gate in front of me, my apprehension growing. “Maybe you should press that buzzer thing-y again.”

No response.

“Maybe they didn’t hear.”

“They heard fine, slave girl. This here’s the livestock entrance, not the con-see-urge desk at the Ritz.”

The reference to the Ritz reminded me of my cover story. Rita had told Rosco and Skeeter that I was checking into the Ritz Carleton. Yes, the Ritz was where a girl like me belonged. At the Ritz I would be spoiled and pampered, like a proper lady should be. The last time I had been in town I had gotten the penthouse suite. Skeeter’s eyes bugged out at the view!

But truth is, despite my mounting fear, I was glad that I was at The Big D. This was a fantasy come true. I squeezed my thighs together, relishing the pleasure between my legs. Despite my growing anxiety about what lay beyond the green metal door, and my annoyance at Rita’s calculated indifference and disdain for my questions, my real fear was missing out on this chance.

For a few hours, at least, I could pretend to be a real slave girl.

I smiled. Skeeter was probably picturing me standing on the balcony of my Penthouse, a master of the universe, sipping my drink as I overlooked the twinkling city lights of Dallas. If he only knew!

Despite the dropping temperature, I felt a rivulet of sweat running down my forehead. With my hands cinched behind my back, I couldn’t wipe my eyes. Rita was the picture of nonchalance as she played on her phone. Clearly there was only one of us that was scared.

“Do you know what’s on the other side of this gate?” I asked.

Rita, ignoring me, continued playing on her phone.

“Hello? I’m talking to you.”

She looked up at me, clearly annoyed. “I’m checking in on Facebook, okay? Did you want me to take a pitcher’ of ya’ll, and post it?”

“No!” I shouted, jerking against my zip cuffs as I instinctively tried to cover myself.

Rita laughed as she menaced me by waving her phone in the air. Then she walked backwards and took a picture of the neon sign of the perpetually captured cowgirl, then a selfie of herself. She smiled as she posted them.

I stared at her in annoyed disbelief. I was about to be kenneled in a slave market, and she was treating it like a trip to Six Flags.

Maybe it was because I was standing in a livestock chute, but I actually kicked a leg up when a booming voice came over the speaker.

“How many head ya’ got?” the Texas accent asked.

“Jist got the the one,” Rita said. “I’m kennelin’ her.”

“K,” the speaker said. “I’ll be out in a tick.”

Bored, I scrunched my toes against the wooden floor slats. Damn, it was starting to get cold out here.

Waiting. Waiting. Rita played on her phone.

“Could we get rid of these cuffs now?” I asked.

Rita, who had moved onto a phone game judging from her level of interaction, didn’t bother to respond.

I heard metal grind against metal as a sliding door opened. A young man in his late teens, wearing boots, jeans, and a cowboy shirt with The Big D logo, jumped down onto the pavement. He had a toothpick in his mouth, and moved with the smooth, practiced motions of someone who had done this a million times. Despite his youthful appearance, he was clearly an experienced cowhand.

Striding over to the ramp the athletic teenager reached through the bars and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me towards him.

“Hey!” I said, shouting out from the pain.

“Why you usin’ the chute?” he said, talking to Rita even as he checked my scalp for lice. “Got any critters up c’here?”

“I dunno. Don’t think so. But she’s a dirty little piggy. Look at ‘er feet.”

I blushed as the teen cowboy looked at my dirty brown feet.

I gave him a nervous laugh, trying to give myself a proper introduction to the handsome young man. “Rita’s just kidding. I’m actually a very clean girl.”

I flashed him my most winning smile. “Is your name really Hunk?” I said, reading his nametag.

Ignoring my attempts at friendship and mutual respect, Hunk stuck his hands between my legs.

“What ‘bout crotch crickets? She got any jizz nits or bugs in ‘er rug?”

“I don’t think so. That’s why we shaved her.”

Rita was lying, of course, but I was in no position to set the record straight. I was too distracted by the teenage fingers cupping and teasing my pussy to do anything but groan in pleasure. Grateful for Hunk’s commanding touch, I grunted and sighed as the handsome, muscular cowhand slipped a finger inside me for a quick feel, while using his thumb to rub my love button.

Hunk was pleasuring me, but all of the conversation was directed to my “owner.’

“Wow, she’s wetter than the dip!” he drawled. “This is one hot little slut ya’ got here, M’am.”

“Thanks. That’s why I’m kennelin’ ‘er. She’d be humpin’ the doorknob all night if we let her run loose.”

I wanted to respond, but all I could do was gasp and push down on Hunk’s meaty hand.

“Ride ‘em cowgirl,” he said, laughing as I shamefully humped myself on his fingers. “You go, girl!”

I did go, much to my embarrassment and Rita’s obvious disgust. I groaned in frustration as Hunk pulled his hand out of me, and wiped my juices off on my hair.

How could he stop? I was almost there!

The cowboy grabbed the end of my rope, and standing up on the green bars carefully knotted the lariat around my neck to a hook at the top of the chute.

“Thanks for bringin’ ‘er in roped.”

“This ayn’t my first rodeo” Rita drawled, and the cowpoke laughed.

Turning to Rita I squeezed my thighs together, whimpering and begging for relief. I stopped my little bare feet, too embarrassed to ask for him to finish me, but making my intentions clear.

Rita, her arms folded, gave me a derisive laugh and a slowly shook her head. I was desperate for relief, but also mortified, for Rita’s contemptuous smile oozed disdain for my wanton sluttiness.

I squirmed in desperation, trying to rub myself to climax. Rita responded with the same side eye and look of unbridled hostility she had given me the night before, when I had been flaunting my drop dead sexy dress while I flirted with her son.

“Please!” I mouthed, begging for relief.

Rita laughed at my desperation. Signaling her disgust, she answered by clearing her throat, and spitting on the pavement.

“This rope strong enough to hold her?” he said, tugging on the rope to check his knot.

“Yeah, it’s old, but she’s slave skinny. Anyway, I signed the release forms if somethin’ happens.”

The term ‘slave skinny’ was familiar to me. When my rich girlfriends in Chicago called me ‘slave skinny’ it had been the highest compliment. But when Rita said it, it was merely a feature, or an attribute, like a dog’s clipped ears.

The cowpoke didn’t even ask if I had a SIN number, for my wet and wanton sluttiness had made that obvious. He pulled a personal assistant with a keypad off his belt and pulled back my lip to take a picture of my SIN number.

The machine gave a satisfied PING! as he scrolled the screen. “Yeah, you signed the release. I can’t believe you haven’t enslaved her yet. She sure is one hot piece of tail!”

I whimpered in embarrassment as the teenager’s eyes roved freely over my naked body.

“I’m sure nuff thinkin’ ‘bout it” Rita said. She was using her sternest ‘mom’ voice, the voice she used when she wanted to make it clear she was done screwing around.

The cowboy reached through the bars and adjusted Skeeter’s lariat knot. “Nice tie,” he said approvingly. “I’m gonna move this knot behind yer’ ear, darlin’, so we’ll git a clean break if somethin’ goes wrong.”

I didn’t even have time to process this before the machine above me turned on, and the conveyer belt above my head began dragging the hook forward. The green door in front of me automatically opened, revealing…

10 foot of wooden chute, and another green door.

“So long, darlin’” the cowpoke said, slapping me on my bare ass.

With the rope dragging me forward I couldn’t turn my head, but I called out to Rita.

‘Aren’t you coming with me?” I asked.

Rita laughed. “Nooooope!” she said.

“She’s usin’ the people entrance, darlin’” the cowpoke drawled. Then the green door behind me slid shut, cutting me off from the humans.

The door in front of me opened revealing… three foot of wooden chute, and a curve into blackness. The green door behind me slid closed.

I had wanted to visit The Big D for years, but I always pictured my arrival with my limo dropping me off front for a VIP tour. Now I was a naked, roped, dirty foot slave girl, being dragged up a wooden livestock chute. There were wooden slats on the floor, to keep the cattle from walking backwards, I guessed. The chute was lit, but curved, and filled with doors, so like a cow going to slaughter I couldn’t see what was awaiting me. That was the point, I supposed.

I turned down the chute, but the lighting stopped and it was dark. Something smelled bad – very bad. It was a bitter, chemical smell, but harsh: like formaldehyde mixed with rotten meat and skunk. I couldn’t see, but the floor ahead of me seemed to be moving.

I tried to stop, but the rope around my neck dragged me forward. The rope tightened as I stepped off the wood, and my dirty feet dunked into water…

For a moment I thought I was going to hang. I kicked my feet on the water, struggling to find someplace to stand.

The hook slid down, and with an enormous SPLASH I plunged down into the putrid slave dip.

[imreadonly2]

Great idea, having the slave girls get deloused.

[imreadonly2]

Joe, I loved the awkward dialog by Ann to her sister Rita in this chapter. You managed to capture the unfamiliar role of Ann not being in charge, her nervousness at not knowing what was going on and for probably one of the rare instances in her privileged life, where she wasn't in control of her own destiny. You managed to portray these feelings chiefly through her one-sided conversation with Rita - no small feat I can assure you.

Rita played her role to perfection - leaving the reader wondering was she just getting into her role for Ann's sake or was there something more sinister going on in Rita's cute little head. The mystery was palpable and very erotic as I pictured the scene in my mind's eye of Ann, naked, dirty in this industrial machine-like Livestock chute awaiting her fate as a calm Rita played with her phone knowing all the while what was about to happen given her familiarity with The Big D. This was just too thrilling for words.

Hooked6

[lovethissite]

I totally agree Joe. Rita knows what she is doing Anne is clueless.