The Antebellum School Project 3B

[Greyman]

The Antebellum School Project 3B
BY: Hooked6

Chapter 3B

Author’s note: This chapter contains body marking that some may find not to their taste but it is important to the story and its historical context.

Once I was free, Mr. Longacre let me take several moments to get the feeling back into my arm muscles. They were cramping and a bit numb from being stretched above my head for so long. My mother and the girls had already left the Parlor and our Farrier was happy just to stand there looking at me. I felt like a mess but I guess that didn’t matter to him. It was really awkward with him just staring at me but he was standing right in front of me blocking the exit of the room so I just stood there.

He finally told me to walk around the room swinging my arms a bit to help restore the circulation and amazingly enough, it actually worked as I did feel better. I could hear the voices of my classmates outside on the lawn all chatting away – about me presumably. Their rather enthusiastic voices just served to remind me that I would be facing them again at the auction in a few moments. That thought made me start worry about things like who was going to bid on me or more importantly who would end up being my new owner? I had to remind myself again that this was just for my sister’s project which helped calm me down. Besides, the drama class had already seen my naked little self as well as doing several rather shameful acts as well. Surely it couldn’t be any worse than what I had already been through.

Just then my step-sister, Angie, came back into the room holding a glass of cool lemonade. “Here,” she said with a sisterly smile. “I thought you could use this.”

I took the glass from her and practically gulped it down. I hadn’t realized just how thirsty I was until I starting drinking. The glass was empty very quickly and I asked for another. She just grinned and shook her head in disbelief as she left the room and returned shortly with another glass. I don’t know if it was the sugar, the fresh-squeezed lemon juice, or just the water that I craved, but right then that was the nicest thing Angie could have done for me. I felt refreshed in a way after all that I had been through and her gesture of kindness was a relief to my frazzled nerves. I had an ally in this craziness and that meant a lot.

When I was through drinking, she took the glass from me and said, “Let’s get you cleaned up little and do a quick brush up of your hair.” She then led me by my chain that was still connected to my wrist shackles. I had no choice but to follow her throughout the house. Mercifully, the house seemed empty.

When she reached the back door and began opening it, I started to get nervous wondering who might be out in the back yard. It was only Mr. Longacre with his little cart and mule. He was holding two more shackles in his hands like the ones he had made for my wrists only they looked a little larger.

He grinned at my confusion and explained, “You were supposed to get these ankle shackles earlier but Miss Sedgwick hadn’t realized that and took you back into the house before I had a chance to fit them. We are pressed for time but it won’t take a minute as I brought my things with me back here to spare you some embarrassment in front of your class.”

He then grabbed my right ankle and l lifted it up onto his anvil which was perpendicular to my foot as Angie steadied me on my left side letting me lean on her for support so I wouldn’t fall over. Like before he wrapped the shackle carefully around my ankle then then cautioned me not to move as he placed a red-hot ring through a hole thus closing the shackle and began pounding the ring closed with a small hammer and then cooling it with water from a jug. He repeated the same process with the other ankle then checked both for proper fit. “There you go. All done,” he said with pride.

As he began cleaning up preparing to take the art back out front, Angie led me to the hose and told me to spread my legs wide. I complied and a gentle steam of water began splashing between my legs. She then took my wash rag, coated it with that soapwort stuff until the rag had a lather then began rubbing it over my labia and anus. “This will clean you up and make you nice and fresh for your auction. Can’t have you smelling like the whore you are before the bidding starts, otherwise we might not get a good price for you.” She giggled at her wit but kept on rubbing making my arousal worse.”

I was just about to cum again when she stopped and picked up the hose again and started rinsing me off. The pulsations of the water felt marvelous and I found myself rocking my pelvis into the water trying to enhance those sensations down below. “Oh, no you don’t!” Angie scolded me as she pulled the hose away from me. “We haven’t time for that.” She had that wry smile on her face a twinkle in her eyes letting me know she saw what I was doing and took delight in denying me.

She then started gently fixing my hair making sure to preserve the curls that had set in earlier. After a few minutes she stepped back and said, “That looks fine.” She led me by my wrist chain back into the house.

I was greeted by my step-mom who was holding a longer chain but the links were smaller than the present one on my wrists making the one she was holding look lighter in weight. “We are running late,” she said as she quickly snapped the chain to my neck collar. “What took you two so long?”

“Honey here was trying to masturbate herself with the water trying to get herself off.” Both Angie and my step-mom laughed. “I guess Sarah Ann was right. My step-sister IS slave hot. She must like this whole slave thing.”

“I DO not,” I snapped back angrily in denial. “I am only doing this for you, Angie. Nothing more.”

“Yeah, that and $30,000.”

Susan took hold of the leather hand-hold that had been secured on the end of my neck chain and started walking towards the front door. As we walked through the hallways towards the front of the house, Angie suddenly starting laughing for no apparent reason.

“Hey look, mom, Honey looks just like a dog being led out for her walk.”

Susan turned around and smiled. “Let’s hope she is worth more than a good hunting dog.” She then came closer to my face and her expression turned serious. “In a moment I am going to lead you out onto the veranda and position you close to the steps. Mr. Conner will introduce you and you had better listen to everything he is saying. As he addresses the crowd, he will occasionally give you instructions and you had better do everything exactly as he tells you to do or there will be hell to pay. Got it? You will play the part of the perfect slave. You don’t want to even think about what will happen to you if you ruin this for my daughter.”

The tone in her voice and the menacing expression on her face was scaring me to death. I just nodded my agreement. We then continued until we reached the front door. My step-mom took a deep cleansing breath to calm her nerves and put her hand on the doorhandle but caught herself before actually opening the door. “Oh, my goodness. I almost forget this,” she said as she picked up something from the antique Queen Anne entryway table in the foyer.

She turned back to face me and instructed,” Open.” She then held up that stick-gag thing waiting for me to comply which I did the moment I understood what she meant me to do. There was no sense in taking chances after her outburst just now. Angie tied the leather straps around my neck tightly. Once again that awful taste filled my mouth. I saw my reflection in the mirror above then entryway table and I was aghast! My mouth was stretched open into a hideous smile by that gag stick. Yes, a smile, like some house-of-horrors ghoul. My neck chain dangling from my collar and my wrists linked together by the heavy chain really did make me look like a real slave. My heart starting beating a little faster and my anxiety over what was going to happen began to grow.

Then my mom asked me if I was ready and I nodded again. She told Angie to open the door slightly and poke her head out making sure that Mr. Conner was ready which she did. The moment her face was visible to the crowd, everyone got very quiet outside. “They are ready, mom.”

Susan gave a sharp tug on my neck leash pulling my forward. Angie opened the door and walked out ahead of my step-mom onto our rather wide veranda with me trailing behind. I had to look down at my feet for several steps as the ankle-shackles kept hitting each other with each step I took and it was rather uncomfortable, and with Susan constantly pulling on my leash, I was afraid that I might trip. I had to learn to walk with my legs wider apart to keep them from banging into each other.

When the crowd saw me come into view as Susan finally stepped aside, they started cheering wildly. Surprised by the noise, I suddenly looked up and almost fainted at the size of the crowd before me. I was expecting just to see the same few members of the drama club that had seen me in the parlor a little while ago and maybe a couple of neighbors as my step-mom had indicated the other night. Instead, there must have been at least 50 or 60 classmates from my school all dressed to the nines in period costumes! In addition, I saw about 12 to 15 neighbors I knew also dressed the same way. Most everyone before me I seemed to know or recognize. Outside of a few students I didn’t know, most out there knew me and they were all seeing me like this naked, collared, gagged, and shackled. I seriously wanted to just curl up in a ball and die. So much for keeping my small chest a secret! I tried to raise my arms up to hide my breasts as best I could but I wasn’t very successful.

My mom introduced Mr. Conner as our auctioneer and told the crowd all sales were final once the word “sold” was announced and the final gavel came down.

Mr. Conner took hold of my chain and started speaking as my step-mom stepped down the steps and mingled with the crowd.

“This is Honey,” he started. She is 18 years of age and has just recently been enslaved and in the custody of the Harkins family for a couple of days. They have decided to sell her to those present today. I have had the pleasure of thoroughly examining Honey a little while ago . . .”

He was interrupted by several loud whistles and catcalls, and a few snide remarks. “I’ll bet you did, Mr. C.” somebody yelled out causing the rest of the students to laugh.

Mr. Conner smiled, cleared his throat, and continued, “Now as I was saying I examined this lovely creature and found her to be without significant defect. She claims to be a virgin . . .”

More laughter and heckling were heard from the crowd. “She probably is as I never even got to first base with her and I have had several girls here who can attest to my way with women.”

“You’re all talk, Frank,’ Katie Wilcox shouted out. “You didn’t even know how to French Kiss until I showed you how, you moron.” There was even more laughter at her remark.

“Settle down. We’ll be here all day at this rate,” our principal chastised bent on restoring order. He had that way about him that just caused everyone to obey or just did whatever he told people to do without argument.

“She claims to be a virgin but I found no evidence of an intact hymen. She gave a plausible excuse as to how that could be and knowing her to be an honest person, I am inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

I was blushing so hard at hearing what he was telling them. Why did he have to say all of that? He could have left all that out. These people wouldn’t have cared.

“I have examined all her paperwork and Judge Jenkins there,” he then pointed to his right identifying him among the crowd, “has signed the sales document and countersigned the enslavement contract so everything is in order to proceed.”

My eyes grew wide as I saw that indeed our county court judge was here witnessing all of this as I stood naked before him. I immediately looked the crowd and over by Mr. Longacre’s farrier cart with coals still burning was our high Sherrif Mr. Hardcastle; he was in his regulation uniform complete with his gun belt and pistol.

Oh great, was I going to get arrested for public indecency, I wondered? That’s all I needed was to spend the night in jail and end up with a criminal record. Then it dawned on me that he must be part of all of this too, I supposed, as he too was wearing a long black period overcoat with his badge pinned on the outside lapel.

“We will start the bidding in $5 increments. All payments must be made in cash and bidders must have checked in with Miss Harkins and received a card with a bidding number on it in order to make an actual bid. Just hold up your card in the air when making a bid.”

He gave several more rules but I was too worked up to pay attention. I was overwhelmed with all this. As the day unfolded, truth be told, I was having a harder and harder time deciding in my mind what was real and what was part of my sister’s project. All these people in period clothes, the large number of people involved in this; the Judge and the high Sherrif being here along with my neighbors it all seemed so confusing. Everyone acted as though it was real and my nakedness was certainly real.

I was lost in a myriad of emotions and thoughts when all of a sudden, I heard a loud “SNAP” followed immediately by intense pain on my butt. “I said, get down on all fours and follow my lead,” Mr. Conner, our principal, said in a very firm voice. I saw that he was holding that same handle with two, 2-foot pieces of leather attached to it that Angie had used on me earlier. My step-mother had told me to pay attention but that was so hard to do showing my naked self in front of all these people. Up to now I had never even worn a bikini in front of others let alone showing all of me to a crowd of people.

I immediately got down on my hands and knees as my principal lead me back and forth from one side of the stair-opening in the veranda to the other. After making a few trips like this showing me off this way to everyone assembled, he turned me into a big circle two or three times and finally stopped me when he had me facing the front door showing my butt to my classmates. “Put your head on the ground and reach around and using your hands pull your ass cheeks apart so everyone can see that secret prize of yours that you take such pains to keep hidden.”

I let out a mild protest through my gag trying to say “no, please” hoping it was understandable, but he clearly didn’t get the message as he just shouted “DO IT, BITCH. . . NOW!” So, I did. I could feel that my labia were extremely wet even after my so-called cleaning up and this situation didn’t make things any better.

I heard many, many “oooh’s and ahhhh’s” from both the boys and the girls in the audience. Oddly enough hearing that made me even wetter as I then felt myself actually starting to ooze more fluids which slowly made its presence known on my thighs which embarrassed me further which in turn made me even wetter. It was a vicious cycle.

“Now THERE’S something to see, ladies and gentlemen. As I witnessed before, she self-lubricates quite readily without any help from others and her wetness gets much more pronounced the longer she is naked and exposed, practically begging for someone to take advantage. She would make a great comfort companion or a fancy girl on those long cold winter nights. AND as I also observed, she is equally aroused by women as well as by men and in fact, experienced at least two orgasms at the hands of a woman earlier during the buyer’s due diligence period.”

Mr. Conner yanked my leash pulling me up until I was once again standing facing my peers. I just stood there with that stupid gag-grin on my face – my open mouth not allowing me to swallow my saliva so it just ran onto my chest giving my breasts a sheen that showed in the sunlight.

Then he started the bidding speaking loudly and somewhat in a hurry,” Now who’ll give a $10 dollars, ten dollars, ten dollars I need . . .”

“TEN DOLLARS,” a man somewhere in the crowd yelled out.

“Who’ll give me $15 dollars, 15, 15, 15 . . .”

“FIFTEEN!” some boy in the back shouted out but I couldn’t see who it was.

“I’ve got 15 dollars who’ll make it twenty, 20,20, 20 Looking for 20. . .”

“FIFTY DOLLARS!” a girl in the middle of the crowd yelled out excitedly. Her face was concealed by her bidding card that she held up so I didn’t know who she was either.

This continued like that for quite sometime with bids coming in five or ten dollar increments then someone would make a much higher amount of fifty or one hundred dollars over the current bid. When the bidding got to $500 the bidding started slowing way down and Mr. Conner had to coax people to make another bid.

“Honey,” he said letting my leash fall to the ground, “Start jumping up and down in place until I tell you to quit.”

I reluctantly did the moment I saw him pick up that leather whip handle again. I also noticed that my even my small breasts moved noticeably up and down along with me with each jump I made, wiggling with every landing, and that seemed to stimulate the bidding again, but shockingly, it was the women that were now coughing up the cash. What the hell? I thought. It was supposed to be the men that would love the sight of jiggling titties not the women. But then I realized that the boys might just have run out of money as they usually spend it as soon as they get it whereas women tended to be more frugal with their own cash – unless of course the guy was buying, then money was no object – hence the reason a woman had the extra cash to spend. Well, that’s what I thought anyway.

When the bidding came to a crawl again, he told me to stop jumping as he started teasing people with reasons they should bid more and not miss out on the opportunity to possess something supposedly as valuable as I was. The he dropped the bomb . . . “Honey, play with yourself.”

“Uhhhh huh” I cried out through my stick gag desperately shaking my head back and forth hoping he wouldn’t make me do that.

“You heard me, masturbate you bitch or . . .” He then picked up the whip again and went around behind me and snapped it in the air scaring me half-to-death with just the sound of it.

I caved and put my fingers of my right hand against my labia and clitoris and, to my utmost shame, I actually started fingering myself in front of all these classmates, and the Sherrif and our judge and my step-mom!

Mr. Conner walked back away from me and started coaxing bids again and they came, and they came. Something else came as well – laughter! From everybody; mostly from the girls as they were all smiles. The boys just grinned as their faces said it all as they eagerly took in what I was doing.

My weak finger motions gave into the fire burning between my legs and I masturbated in earnest. I wanted to use my other hand to caress one of my breasts but the chain between my wrists wouldn’t allow me to reach both places and still stimulate my clitoris which by now was severely engorged and reddened and ever so sensitive! My breathing began to deepen and my eyes closed as my heart began pounding in my chest. I could feel myself getting closer and closer and then in front of all these people, the very people I went to school with every day . . . I let out a very loud moan followed by another and my body convulsed. I could feel my vagina and my anus pulsing and squeezing simultaneously as I came hard. When IT was over I just stood there in front of everybody, my eyes still closed as I came down from such a wonderful high.

Once again, I was lost in my thoughts and I wasn’t paying attention until I heard Mr. Conner yell out, “Going twice . . . SOLD to number 57 for $750 dollars.” And the gavel came crashing down with a loud bang on the porch rail ending the sale.

Then it hit me and hit me hard. I had been sold. I had been sold! Naw, this was just pretend . . . wasn’t it? It all seemed so real; so vivid. Boy, I would have some things to write in my journal for Angie tonight. Still, I was so filled with raw emotions still chained, gagged and oh so very naked on the porch I didn’t know what to think.

I looked over to my right and saw my step-mom, Angie and several guys and girls all circled around the judge and it looked like they were all signing something. What were they doing? I asked myself as I was trying to gain clarity from my post-orgasm bliss.

Who bought me? I asked myself. Was it a guy? Was it a girl? Was it even one of my older neighbors? I wouldn’t put it past any of them as my neighbors were all lecherous old men at times.

Mr. Conner came back from signing the papers with the judge and said, “Honey, you were magnificent! Just magnificent. I am proud of you? You just wait here for a moment, okay? Don’t go away. It won’t be long,” and with that he stepped off the porch and I lost sight of him again so I just stood there naked and alone and ever so wet. One thing was clear - nobody, and I mean nobody, was leaving.

Angie came up the stairs smiling. “You have done well today,” she said with pride as she took off my stick-gag. It felt good to be rid of that awful thing.

“Thank you. It was very hard, you know, but I did for you. I wanted your project to be successful.”

“Thank you.” There was silence for a minute and then she asked. So, what did you think of your final bid of $750.00? Quite a lot of money. I was impressed.”

“I know that was a lot of money for kids these days but back then $750 wasn’t that big a deal, wasn’t it? Surely slaves sold for a lot for than that?”

Angie just shook head in disappointment. “You think so? How much do you think money was worth back then? Let me tell you something, if a slave sold for $750 back in 1845, that was considered an astronomical amount to pay for a slave. Regardless, farmers, plantation owners, and others bought slaves as an investment. Slaves made even more money for their owners than they cost to buy. A healthy 18-year-old female slave – the most prized of all categories of slaves - could be bought for $600 to $650 dollars in 1845.”

“I still think that a human being would be worth more.”

“Okay, let’s put it this way, $750 in 1845 would be equivalent in 2024 to roughly $31,040.13. So, you see, if you sold for $750 back, then you were well above the actual average for prized slaves.” She studied my face for a bit then added, “I should explain that this auction used 1845-dollar values, that is, we conducted this as what dollars were worth back then. All those bidding today knew that and took that into account when making their bids and were using their own real money to bid on you.”

I chuckled a bit and remarked, “That’s almost the amount I am going to earn if you get your scholarship. Funny isn’t it, for that to be such a coincidence.”

“Yeah, what a coincidence, right?” said with a wry smile and started to walk away.

As she reached the bottom step with her back towards me as she was still walking away, I asked, “Angie, who bought me?”

“What? She said as if she hadn’t heard me. She was still walking, backwards now, with her right hand to her ear so she could hear me, but everyone was talking on the front lawn.

I shouted louder this time, “Who had the winning bid?”

She shrugged her shoulders, smiled, and turned around and kept walking.

Maybe she didn’t know? I found that hard to believe but maybe . . .

My step-mom came up and grabbed my leash. “Come with me. We have one more thing to do before we are done. We have to get you ready to meet your new owner.”

Oh, so that’s why Angie was being so evasive. There must be some historical tradition after a slave is purchased, I thought. I am certain it will be embarrassing but I have come this far so might as well get this over with.

My step-mom took me over to a clearing near where Mr. Longacre has been sitting most of the day with his cart. There now was a wooden structure that I hadn’t noticed before. It looked like three vertical log poles joined together at the top and one horizontal cross pole about waist high attached to the front two vertical poles. The whole thing looked like a giant artist’s easel. I have attached a link to give you an idea.

imgur.com/a/hdeKppm

Susan said, “I am pleased with your effort today. Don’t give up now okay. I know this will be probably embarrassing for you but according to your step-sister’s research this was a common device to use. Are you ready?”

I just nodded, happy that Susan seemed proud of me for a change. I told her, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Now walk up to that horizontal pole there. Get as close as you can get. That’s it.” That’s when I noticed Mr. Longacre fastening my ankle-shackles to each of the two vertical poles near the bottom.

“Now, Honey, bend over the horizontal pole at the waist and try to reach that other vertical pole in front of you.” I bent over and had to stretch a bit just to reach it but I finally got close enough to reach it with each of my hands. Mr. Longacre fastened each of my wrists to rings on each side of that last pole in back.

Susan looked things over and remarked, “Should we tie her legs at the knees with rope so she will hold still?”

“No,” Mr. Longacre said. “She did well following instructions this morning as I placed the shackles and in your parlor. I am sure she will be fine.”

I was actually pleased that he was sticking up for me so I decided right then and there to hold still if that was something he wanted me to do.

Susan walked around the contraption and looked me in the eyes. “I will leave these next two decisions up to you. Whatever you decide is fine with me. First, usually you have to have that stick gag back in your mouth for this, but you don’t have to if you would rather not.”

“Oh, please, not that stick thing again. That tastes so foul it makes me want to puke.”

“Got it, no gag. The next thing you need to know is that we will be recording this for Angie’s presentation and we have told your classmates that they can now take pictures of you as long as they didn’t get in the way. Up to now they haven’t been able to take pictures with their phones as we took them all as they didn’t have camera phones back then. Like you, they have been out here all day so Angie thought we needed to do something to say thank you and wanted to let them take images of you and of the other students in costumes and I thought that was a good idea.”

“Oh Susan, please not that! You can’t let them take pictures of me naked like this. I’ll be ruined! It is bad enough that they will talk about this, but if they have pictures, I’ll be all over the Internet.”

“I know dear, so I am offering you a way to protect your identity by placing a black cloth hood over your head then neither your hair nor your face will be seen. The one condition is that you MUST hold absolutely still. Any movement at all, and I mean ANY movement, I’ll yank that hood off of you and let them have all the facial pictures they want. Understood?”

“Understood,” I replied.

“Oh, and one more thing, being covered you won’t be able to see what is going on and sounds will mess with you heightening your anxiety. It might be higher and sounds and not actually seeing what is going on might make you nervous. Just hold still and everything will be fine. So, what will it be – hood or no hood?”

“I’d like to wear the hood, please. Thank you so much for allowing me to cover my face. That was so considerate of you. You are the best.”

“You got it, but if you move and ruin this, I’ll yank that hood off in a split second and let them have at it.” I nodded my head in understanding as she reached for the hood. Before she did so, I saw Angie setting up the cameras - three in front of me – one directly facing me and one each off to the side. I craned my neck to look behind me and saw two more cameras being set up at angles off to the side. Then . . . darkness.

She was right. Losing my sight made my hearing more acute. Everyone was talking and mumbling – a nervous mumble it sounded to me. There seemed to be a lot of tension or excitement in the air - I wasn’t sure which but hey, I was new to this blindfold thing so I may have been imagining it.

I heard Susan say.” Okay everyone, you may take pictures now but please stay back of the markers on the ground that we put up for you. Don’t cross those lines. You may use your zoom features on your cameras if you must get close-ups.

Boy did my classmates seem excited and I heard all the shutter sounds going off like every nano-second a dozen pictures were being taken of my naked butt, presumably my tits and my pubes – everything thing that I had tried so hard to keep secret was now immortalized on people’s phones! I could hear lots of footsteps of people moving around out there as well trying to get better angles I supposed.

Knowing my peers were now taking pictures of my body really made me wet and very aroused. I could fell my juices sliding down my inner thighs making people laugh aloud. How humiliating!

I was absolutely sure that bent over like I was, they were getting a perfect view of my secret places. I hated that and I loved that at the same time.

All of a sudden everyone got very quiet. So quiet, in fact, I couldn’t hear a single thing. It stayed like that for several minutes making me wonder what was going on. Finally, Susan spoke up in a calm and reassuring voice. She sounded like she was somewhere near my head, “Now this is almost over. This is very important so be sure and not move for the next few minutes or you’ll know what will happen.”

“Yes ma’am. You can count on me.”

Mr. Longacre spoke up and said simply, “Honey, this is a gift from your new owner.”

Then In a flash, I felt an excruciating, searing pain like my skin was burning or on fire and it wouldn’t let up. I was screaming my head off yet I still heard everyone laughing hysterically over my screams like whatever was happening was the funniest thing in the world. I lost control of my bladder and began pissing on the ground. I couldn’t stop it. The next thing I knew is that I could see again. Susan had yanked the hood off my head as I was crying and screaming bloody murder. I looked up and saw people taking pictures of me! Everything felt like it was taking forever but I learned later than it was only 5 seconds then the pain let up. I smelled something awful that I couldn’t place then I apparently blacked out.

I don’t know how long I was out. The next thing I remember was cold water being tossed on my face. My butt was in unbelievable pain and I started screaming again. Those damn classmates of mine were still filming me but I couldn’t stop screaming to tell them to stop.

A minute or two later I felt someone gently rubbing my butt with something very soothing and amazingly the pain stopped completely. I heard Angie’s voice saying, “This is a Cherokee Indian salve made from several things, most notably Yarrow root, black cohosh, Sulphur, and boiled red oak leaves to make a paste. Together these block pain and promote rapid healing of burns.”

“BURNS?!!! What the hell happened to me.”

“You were branded as all slaves were in the 1840’s.”

“BRANDED? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

It is what they did. You handled very well. I see you moved though and, being, true to her word, mom had to take your hood off. Still, I don’t think you moved too much. Your branding looks like it came out perfect – very legible.”

“What does it look like?” I asked nervously.

“Here, let me show you a picture I took while you were out.” She walked around to my face and held up a photo on her phone. It was a round circle, about the size of a quarter or so, with an “S” in the center of the circle – the letter touching the top and bottom of the circle inside.

“What is the ‘S’ for?” I asked with my voice still shaking.

“The letter ‘S’ was the universal symbol for slave,” She explained.

I was now permanently marked as a slave right on the upper part of my left butt cheek.

“Who was the bastard that bought me and sent me this so-called gift? Tell me. I have a right to know,” I snapped angrily.

Angie gave me an awkward grin and just waved at me. “It was me, dear step-sister.”

“Why you bitch!”

Coming up: Chapter 4 – Recovering and starting training as a slave


..

[Survivor29]

Great story btw Hooked6. I already read this on girlspns but honestly I am glad you are posting here too.

[Panchiman]

Very good story, I didn't expect them to mark her, I can't wait for chapter 4. By the way, the imgur link doesn't work