Jing Gao’s POV
A grand adventure awaited as I strode through the sliding glass doors into the Human Capital Incorporated (HCI) lobby with Will submissively following me after briefly hesitating at the entrance. All it took was a little tug on the leash attached to his cock cage eliciting a little whimper and he scampered to catch up. Leading Will like this I felt like I was the Mistress of all I surveyed as I took in my surroundings. This was the first time I had been in a slave market expecting to leave as a free woman and it was simply exhilarating being on this end of the leash with the man that I love wearing my collar.
The sights, smells and sounds of the slave market flooded me with memories of my time as a naked slave. I felt myself inundated with strong emotions and a healthy dose of sexual arousal that caught me a little off guard. I had learned as a young female attorney that no matter how nervous you are radiating poise in the courtroom like you were running the show always set the tone for any hearing and this was no different. Although I had butterflies in my stomach and my throbbing pussy was leaking like a sieve, I quickly oriented myself following Esmerelda’s lead locating the express sign in for the “Ladies Day” event. Confidently tugging on the leash attached to the cock cage of my husband of less than 48 hours, I led him over to the check in.
One woman was behind the counter while two young slave wranglers who both appeared to be college students working a summer job were changing out the owners’ collars and cuffs for HCI-branded gear. The male staff wore the standard uniform of an HCI slave wrangler; boots, sturdy khaki work pants, a navy-blue polo shirt emblazoned with the HCI logo, and a heavy belt carrying the tools of the trade - handcuffs, a leather tawse, and a stun gun. The female wrangler, whose name tag identified her as Trixie, caught my eye as she was wearing a loose leather skirt to her knees instead of pants which seemed unusual until I remembered the “Ladies Day Special Testing” special.
For a fee, everything has a fee here of course, HCI’s female staff will test drive a male slave’s oral skills for the owner or prospective buyer and rate them on enthusiasm, technique, and amenability to training. I had signed up Will so he would be “evaluated” at least twice by HCI employees which is easier to accomplish when wearing a skirt. There was another “Ladies Day” option where interested buyers could themselves test drive the tongues of these slaves being “processed” for auction to assist these women develop their bidding strategy.
The only catch was that the women had to sample their prey out in the open, which was why many were wearing loose flowing skirts or dresses with plenty of room for a slave to maneuver beneath without putting the woman’s privates out in the open. For the women that lacked discretion or were closet exhibitionists like yours truly, they just went bottomless putting themselves on lewd display whenever test driving a slave. Hell, I had just rolled my skirt up in the parking lot which was another acceptable alternative. For slaves like Will that were not being auctioned, their owners could take them out of the lineup, for a fee of course. I had opted to save some money here, so any of the buyers could at any time decide to “evaluate” my new husband’s oral skills further helping Will better understand a slave’s plight.
Trixie was a cute little thing no bigger than me, with a nice pair of plump titties that stretched her polo shirt nicely, her light red hair in pigtails, pale skin with freckles, and that innocent girl next door look that reminded me of the girl on the Little Debbie oatmeal cream pies box in the supermarket that I loved as a kid. She was like lightning in a bottle, a whirlwind of activity with a beaming smile and a no-nonsense attitude that had the slaves complying with her every order despite her small stature.
The other wrangler named Bradley was a tall hunk of a man wearing tight pants that accentuated his firm tooshie and the large log running down his right thigh. This guy reminded me of the model Fabio but without the hair. Based on his mannerisms, keen interest in the male slaves' physiques and the way his hands lingered on them, he had to be gay. I bet he enjoyed expanding the horizons of the cute young male slaves being processed through the facility.
Brock was waiting for me off to one side with his arms folded over his broad chest and a scowl on his handsome face. As the assistant manager at this HCI facility there was nothing he could do to prevent Will's processing, but he could thwart parts of my plan. I wanted him to work with me. Getting him there was going to be a challenge though. His demeanor changed somewhat when he saw me with Esmerelda whom he greeted warmly. Clearly, she was a regular customer as he knew her by name.
When the pleasantries with Esmerelda concluded Brock held out his hand for my paperwork, "Do you mind?"
"Not at all," I grinned, knowing full well he would want to make sure everything was in order for one of his best friends. "Let's step out of earshot and let them process Will. It's reservation number LD 42."
Brock signaled Trixie, getting her attention, and pointing at Will, "Get this one signed in under reservation LD 42. I'll be going over the paperwork with the owner in the office."
"Will do Boss," replied Trixie, taking Will's leash from me. Then she started right off with the standard admonition, “You are at the Dallas, Texas location of Human Capital Incorporated. You are here for processing as a slave. I am required by law to inform you that the collar you are wearing can deliver a powerful and extremely painful electric shock if you attempt to leave the building without permission. Additionally, all HCI 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?”
Listening to her recite that warning that every new slave hears and knowing how it made me feel like a piece of merchandise every time I heard it while a naked slave girl had a complex effect on me. On the one hand, it sent tingles down my spine straight to my throbbing pussy as I followed Brock. On the other hand, it also gave me a brief thrill of fear before I righted myself with the knowledge that I was now the owner, and not the formerly free person wearing a slave collar.
We entered an office with a big window overlooking the lobby so I could observe Will being checked into the slave market while we talked. Once released from the cock cage Will’s shaft sprung into a full erection as it literally grew before my eyes much like watching a plant grow from a seed to a sprout in a National Geographic time lapse video.
Trixie teased him briefly hefting his balls before running her finger along the underside of his shaft to his large mushroom head whereupon she friskily swatted it making it bob nicely. Then without warning, she bent his cock down until it was almost pointing to the ground before releasing. It sprang back, likely smacking loudly and humiliatingly against my stomach. It’s a way to measure both erection firmness and submissiveness. That little minx was tormenting him like a cat playing with a mouse before the kill. I liked her already.
I noticed Amber enter the lobby led by her mother proudly holding her leash making a scene stealing entrance. A good-hearted rumble of approval went up from the assemblage in the lobby as they took in the gorgeous teen still lost in her slave haze. Amber was all slutified with the remnants of her parking lot escapade adorning her voluptuous body. Her hair was a mess sticky with cum, her face was coated in pussy juice and that strand of cum on her cheek, her impressive rack was covered with a mixture of cum and saliva, and her dripping slit glistened in the light. The phrase “rode hard and put away wet” came to mind when I saw her and, to my knowledge, she hadn’t even been fucked yet.
Oblivious to the scene stealing teen, Brock quickly thumbed through the paperwork, his eyes lighting up in anger, exclaiming, "Aw hell, Jing. You registered him as a pleasure slut!? Why'd you have to go and do that!"
Then he really lost it, "You're branding your own husband with your personal badge? Is that necessary?"
“Hey, I want you to know the branding iron was a specially commissioned job by Merle Atkins designed to limit the surface burn area,” I added, knowing that as a professional he would appreciate the artistic quality of a custom Atkins branding head.
Brock gave me an exasperated look before acerbically replying, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that you spared no expense to get a true artist to create a masterpiece in the high-quality branding head design that’s burned into his ass.”
"Look, how many brands do I have? I know you and Eddie looked me up in the NSR (National Slave Registry), so you know I spent time at Middleton Place. I bet you even checked out my pink shots. Both sets," I challenged, giving him a knowing look while seeking the high ground in this discussion.
Brock didn't dispute it. The guilty look on his slightly flushed face told me all I needed to know. His failure to deny it is what we lawyers call an adoptive admission. Instead of replying, Brock buried himself further into the paperwork which only got him more worked up.
"What, you're sending Will to the Cougar Club? Don't tell me you're sissifying him on hormones!" Brock begged, his angry eyes pleading with me.
"Of course not, silly. It’s way more fun dominating a masculine man than a pathetic sissy. I signed him up for Bull training. The only injections Will's getting are vitamin supplements," I calmly retorted, trying to put Brock at ease while giving him an opportunity to vent, to work out his frustration over Will's current situation and some of the guilt he had from putting Will in this position the night before my wedding.
Muttering, "Thank God for that,” a somewhat relieved Brock finished reviewing the documents. “Everything is in order with the paperwork. Congratulations, Jing, you have yourself a slave husband,” he commented bitterly, handing the paperwork back to me.
Brock had calmed down a little so I decided to seek his help, "Look, there is something you can do for Will. I want to make sure none of your male slave wranglers like Bradley out there use him sexually, and no pegging from the women either. I know what goes on back there. I have no intention of turning Will into a cocksucker."
“Consider it taken care of,” replied Brock, “I’ll make sure of it. No-one will screw around with him.”
With a mischievous twinkle in my eye, I pushed the envelope, “But I don’t want Will to know he is protected. He needs to experience firsthand that he has lost control of his body and may have to sexually service another male.”
Brock paused looking conflicted. Will and his friends were consummate practical jokers with each other, with Brock on the receiving end more than most. I could see that Brock saw an opportunity to pull a fast one on Will, but the circumstances pushed the envelope of good taste. That never stopped them before, and it didn’t stop Brock today.
“Deal, I’ll take care of it, but you should tip the slave wranglers if you want it done right,” he replied.
I grabbed some twenties out of my purse and handed them to my new partner in crime who stuffed them into his pocket as he led me back out into the lobby. Handing him that cash felt empowering. It wasn’t hard for me to understand why since now I tipped standing up with cash. As a slave I tipped on my knees with my mouth willingly providing high quality service with a smile. Making my owner proud when I happily displayed some stranger’s splooge on my tongue, or a face coated with pussy juice.
I quickly signed the paperwork formally turning Will over to HCI and collected the bag containing the slave gear Will arrived in, while Brock pulled Trixie and Fabio aside palming them my tip money while mentioning Geraldine. I distracted Will by pulling him down, and giving him a big kiss on the cheek and whispering in his ear, “Make me proud.” He nodded in acknowledgement and then Bradley took control of him.
I watched Bradley lead Will away holding him by the ass. Will glanced back at me giving me a forlorn look as Bradley appeared to be goosing Will with his middle finger while cupping Will's butt cheek in his hand while guiding him through the door into the bowels of the HCI slave market. I waved goodbye and blew my husband a kiss for good luck and then he was gone.
Esmerelda grabbed me by the elbow pulling me along, “Come along girlfriend. We need to get back there before they start the festivities. Is this your first time at one of these shindigs? I’m an old hand here and haven’t seen you here before so stick with me, I’ll introduce to all the regulars. So many of the girls will want to hear all about your prenup.”
Esmerelda took me under her wing, leading me into the large “Ladies Day” conference room filled with well over a hundred, shall we say, “highly enthusiastic” women. There was a full bar that seemed to specialize in potent fruity umbrella drinks in the corner next to a table full of finger food and salads. Big screens adorned the walls showing naked male slave meat being processed. Meat was the apt term with the way these women evaluated each slave’s endowments. There were many lively discussions concerning the perfect penis from the importance of a big mushroom heat to size. It reminded me of those old Miller Lite commercials with the “tastes great” vs “less filling” debates. Here it was length vs girth while some size queens just liked them long and thick.
Complementary HCI iPads were available so you could follow individual slaves. I even saw Will waiting in line to get his Slave Identification Number tattooed onto his lower lip with Trixie nonchalantly toying with his erection. Esmerelda’s slave boy had Bradley’s full attention running his hands all over the squirming slave standing right next to Will. She and I grabbed earbuds and an iPad so we could listen in to what was unfolding on the big screen before our very eyes on the CCTV.
“Knees,” ordered Bradley, forcefully pushing down on Adam’s head guiding him to his knees, whereupon Bradley removed the slave’s gag. “Have you ever sucked cock?” snickered Bradley, while unzipping his pants and pulling out an impressive trouser snake as the slave shook his head no while staring in fear at the hardening shaft bobbing before his face. In my estimation Bradley’s cock looked longer, but thinner than Will’s well-proportioned heftier shaft. I guess I was more of a girth girl myself.
Bradley chuckled, “There is a first time for everything,” before ordering “Mouth,” and the fearful slave complied, reluctantly at first sucking about a quarter of Bradley’s hardening penis into his mouth. Will stared on in horror as Bradley nonchalantly started driving more and more of his shaft down the struggling slave’s throat while telling Adam he was a cocksucker now.
A coal black female slave wrangler that was taller than Will and outweighed him by a good forty pounds whose name tag identified her as Geraldine walked up to Will, grabbing him by the head and pushing him down while ordering, “On your knees, slave boy, I want you to get a good look at your future as a cocksucker.”
I’d been where that slave boy was when I was first collared, publicly servicing a man with my mouth who was unconcerned with the poor slave struggling to accommodate his shaft. Like me back then, Adam was nothing more than a human fleshlight in Bradley’s mind whose feelings were irrelevant to the slave wrangler’s immediate needs. All they ever cared about was getting off quickly so they could get back to work.
“Bradley, you wanna give this one a taste?” asked Geraldine suggestively, pushing Will’s head forward while removing his gag.
Will’s erection had quickly deflated, hanging limply between his thighs while witnessing Bradley abuse the young man. I giggled at his reaction to the new reality that he no longer controlled how his body was used. I wondered how many slave girls Will had nonchalantly face fucked like Bradley was doing to Adam. To Will’s visible relief, Bradley grunted “no” as he started using the slave boy’s mouth like a golf ball cleaner, brutally face fucking the gagging teen until tears were streaming out of his eyes and spit leaked out of his mouth right before Will’s distressed eyes. Bradley grunted, holding his cock balls deep in Adam’s mouth as he unloaded down the poor boy’s throat before pulling back, filling the slave’s mouth with his seed.
With a cruel look on his face Bradley taunted, “Remember to save my splooge so you can proudly display it on your tongue, cocksucker.”
Bradley pulled his shaft out of Adam’s mouth and demeaningly slapped him in the face with it a few times all while Adam obediently stuck out his tongue coated with Bradley’s slimy discharge. From the distressed expression on his face, Adam sure knew he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
“Swallow cocksucker,” commanded Bradley and the poor boy did.
Then it got interesting.
Geraldine lifted her skirt revealing a coal black strap-on about the size of my pink one back home hanging down next to her thigh which she clicked into place right in front of Will. Grabbing him by the hair she held his head while she gently slapped him in the face with her dark phallus before rubbing the tip over his lips.
“Slave boy, you’re gonna worship my girl cock. Have you ever sucked your Mistress’s cock before?” she teased. Will blushed cutely with embarrassment giving himself away as she ordered, “Kiss, it slave boy. I know you know how.”
Will licked his lips nervously as his eyes glanced around to see who was watching before giving the dildo a light peck following that up with a more passionate kiss. Gaining confidence, he eagerly demonstrated his devotion to Geraldine’s cock, quickly taking over half of it into his mouth while running his tongue along the bottom of the shaft. I wasn’t the only one who noticed that Will soon had a raging boner again, showing his true colors as a healthy heterosexual submissive male.
Esmerelda’s eyes were twinkling when she nudged me and chuckled, “Look how quickly his cock rebounded once Geraldine took over. I can tell he’s worshiped your cock before from the way he’s servicing Geraldine.”
I felt a rush of warmth as my pussy grew wetter with excitement thinking back to that day when Will first sucked my strap-on. The thrill of the power exchange was incredible from that simple act when Will submitted to me.
I nodded in agreement, “Will fought it at first claiming it was gay whenever I first suggested it. He’s very homophobic that way, but I slowly brought him around using slave girls. He was fucking one while I licked her clit when he pulled out and I inhaled his shafted coated with her delicious fluids making his day. He thought it was so hot, so we repeated it a few times and then we switched places. When I pulled out, I grabbed him by the hair staring deeply into his eyes with a look that let him know that I was not taking no for an answer. Hesitantly he opened his mouth at first, taking my cock between his lips as I gently rocked more and more of my shaft into his mouth. It was like flicking a light switch, something changed inside him when suddenly he eagerly tried to inhale my entire shaft while looking up adoringly at me lost in his submission.”
Esmerelda gave me a knowing look, “You’ve made a hell of a catch with your husband. He’s such a masculine looking guy that I suspect how he sees himself conflicts with his true nature as a submissive male needing a strong woman to be truly happy. If I had half a notion that he was for sale, I would bid on him myself.”
I nodded in agreement, “He’s a work in progress. Now whenever I bring a pleasure slut into our bed I have him demonstrate his devotion to me by sucking my strap-on before I fuck the slave girl. Making the slave girl watch his submission really sets the tone for who is really in charge of him and the slut.”
Will was now easily taking Geraldine’s entire shaft down his experienced throat obediently looking up at her when she snickered, “Slave boy, you didn’t answer my question about sucking your Mistress’s cock before. Have you ever?”
With his lips wrapped around her shaft Will nodded his head in the affirmative, inhaling the strap-on to the root once more. Geraldine picked up the pace giving Will a brief face-fucking and he took it well, as he should, he had plenty of practice with me.
Giggling naughtily to herself, “This is a nice role reversal for me as a Black woman, using a White boy like this. The only thing that beats it is pegging a virgin White boy’s lily-white ass with my big black cock. I love the color contrast of my ebony log plundering that little pink sphincter in the middle of that white ass. Has your Mistress pegged you yet?”
I could see a mixture of panic and lust in Will’s eyes when he shook his head “no”. His cock visibly throbbing at the question, though. I swear it did, really.
Geraldine saw it as well, turning serious, “I’ve seen masculine men like you. Deep down they crave a good pegging from the superior gender but are too afraid to admit it because they think it will hurt or make them less of a man in some way. I can see it in your eyes, you will only be free and truly happy when you surrender to your Mistress. At some point you will figure it out for yourself. That day of reckoning is fast approaching.”
Arching her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, Esmerelda also saw it, “I’m pegging Adam to a climax on the branding bench right before burning my personal badge into his ass. Although this may look harsh, I’ve found doing it this way breaks down a new male slave’s resistance to their changed status making them much more servile in the long run. But that’s a slave, not a husband. What’s your plan?”
Understanding the distinction, I sighed, “Will needs to ask for the pegging and he’s not there yet. I’m not forcing it on him. Eventually he will break down and beg me for it if the training at the Cougar Club is as effective as advertised.”
“Oh, it is,” tittered Esmerelda. “I’d give him two weeks, three max, before he is begging for a pegging. The Dominas there are very good at what they do.”
I nodded in appreciation as Geraldine finished with Will. It was now his turn in the Slave Identification Number (SIN) machine to get his SIN permanently tattooed onto his lower lip. Then Will was processed through the veterinarian where he got his first “vitamin” shot, the slave wash with enemas, and grooming where his pubic hair was trimmed making him more presentable. He did however get to watch most of the other male slaves have all their body hair removed below the neck and then joined them for his first ever anal bleaching. The shocked look on his rugged face was priceless.
While all this was going on I had a nice lunch, met several of Esmerelda’s friends, and made an impromptu fifteen-minute presentation on my FINO prenuptial agreement after an enthusiastic introduction from Esmerelda. Afterwards I ran out of business cards, so ended up texting pictures of my card to all those who wanted one.
Then I discussed branding options with Mandy Cameron, the female smith that specialized in badging male slaves. The custom Adkins branding heads impressed her with a recommendation to use the smaller of the two between the cheeks. Her logic, which I agreed with, was that the act of branding my husband was the important thing, not the size of the brand or how many people saw it. The key was the psychological value of Will knowing he would wear my badge marking him as mine for the rest of his life.
One of the highlights of the day for me was watching Will's slave registration photoshoot. Due to privacy concerns for former slaves, the Federal Uniform Slave Code criminalized the copying, publication, or distribution of these slave photos stored in their database often referred to as "pink" shots for women and "wood" shots for men. Of course, slave markets found a loophole whereby they could sell these photos to the slave's owner prior to uploading them to the federal database. During this brief period, the photos were not protected, and I had already paid for a set of Will’s wood shots. I hadn’t decided what use I was going to put them to, if any, but I wanted them as keepsakes.
I'd been through this twice myself, during my initial processing at the Longhorn and during my regrading and sale at the Old Slave Mart. I had enjoyed the experience immensely both times, setting my inner slut loose for the photographer each time. For me I had turned it into a game of sorts, trying to seduce the photographer with my wanton sluttiness each time.
The second set was shot after I spent two months at Middleton Place and with the horny juice coursing through my veins I even climaxed for the camera. The balding forty something photographer with a dad body had a nice sized tent in his pants after my session. With my encouragement he took a break right afterwards for a slave tip from yours truly which I happily gave him even though he was someone that I wouldn’t have given the time of day while a college student. There is a certain freedom being a collared pleasure slut as it allows one to behave in a sexually wanton manner that one wouldn’t even consider as a free woman.
The slave wrangler moving me through the stations was not amused at having to get my makeup and hair redone after I got my mouth filled with the photographer’s seed. The photographer had great fun making a mess rubbing his leaking cock all over my beaming face and wiping it off with my hair. What did I care, lost in my slave haze, having climaxed again when he filled my mouth with his tasty slime? My only concern at the time was finding my next orgasmic fix which didn’t take long when I noticed the smaller tent in the wrangler’s pants. I simply giggled mindlessly, suggesting that since I was already a mess, he could use me to relieve the pressure in his pants so to speak which he did, so I got a twofer climaxing again when he filled my mouth with his salty “gift”.
My thighs involuntarily squeezed together at the memories trying to tamp down the heat in my loins. I was such a happy slave back then regaling in the endless orgasms of a mindless pleasure slut without a care in the world.
But today, I was a well-dressed Mistress, sipping a nice chardonnay while snacking on an assortment of shrimp, spicy crabmeat, and salmon canapes. It was oh-so-very-satisfying when Trixie led Will into the studio, and he was soon sporting an impressive erection. Will performed nicely for the photographer starting with the head shot and then a full body shot in the present position with his cock standing up nicely. For his first beefcake shot the photographer positioned him on his knees leaning back holding himself up with one arm with his other hand behind his head, his pelvis thrust forward putting his turgid phallus on lewd display. Trixie fluffed Will nicely, teasing his cock until a nice thick rivulet of precum ran down to the edge of his big mushroom head forming a large drop that just hung there for the camera during his up-close cock shot.
When Trixie stepped back, Will looked into the camera with a smoldering look and pleaded, “Mistress, let me serve you. Please use me to give you pleasure.”
Will was such a hunk, causing the viewing room to break out in a tizzy as the women fawned over my man, making lewd proposals regarding how they intended to use his man meat. This was quickly followed by groans of dismay when these same women found out he was not for sale. I received more than a few admiring looks tinged with jealousy along with congratulations further elevating my status in the eyes of the women in the room. My pussy throbbed out of control from Will’s libidinous display and reaction in the room. This man was mine, all MINE!
The photographer called out, “Now for the money maker. Slave cock, move onto your hands and knees with your butt facing the camera. Look over your shoulder and plead for a pegging.”
That broke the spell right there. Will froze, then acted all mechanical looking over his shoulder at the camera with a dismayed look on his flushed face. Nothing the photographer tried worked to bring back his arousal until Trixie intervened.
With a determined look on her cute face and menace in her eyes Trixie marched right over to Will and wound up. Using her full body for leverage she smacked him hard on his left buttock with her hand. Then kneeling next to him she grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head back whispering in his ear while massaging the sting away with her other hand all while teasing his winking anus with her middle finger. I couldn’t make out what she said but she did spend a couple of minutes massaging his behind while murmuring to him to the point he started pushing his butt back into her hand.
Releasing Will, Trixie stepped back ordering, “Try again.”
Trixie had slapped Will so hard on his left ass cheek that she left a visible handprint that would likely show up on his photo. Oh, how I hoped the handprint stood out in the picture. Something in Will clicked after the spanking and talking to by Trixie. He looked back over his right shoulder at the photographer, his eyes lidded with arousal spreading his legs and arching his back lewdly with his erection was now visible between his legs with a strand of clear precum hanging from the head.
Will grabbed his right buttock with his right hand and pulled it back making his pink pucker hole visible while moaning, “Mistress Jing, please peg me. Ream me with your big cock. Make me yours, … forever.”
Wills pleading words were music to my ears! This was the sight I had been dreaming about ever since I first met him. I almost creamed right there imagining myself rubbing my pink strap-on between his firm buns as he offered himself up to me right before taking his tight virgin hole making him mine forever. I was so close to fulfilling my dream of sexual dominance over my man that I could almost taste it.
The photographer must have thought it was hot also since she took her break right afterwards making Will service her orally. When she was done Trixie rode his face to a climax or two of her own before leading him out of the studio his face coated with girl goo. Then it was off for some slave yoga practice which I found highly entertaining since the poor boy had a perpetual leaking erection as the energetic Trixie put him through his moves before turning him over to Geraldine. The statuesque slave wrangler grabbed Will by his hair forcing him to his knees and under her dress for oral service. From the looks of it, the sex was more her grinding off on his face than him tonguing her. Regardless, she orgasmed all over Will’s face soaking it well as he had quite a lot of her womanly fluids coating his face when he reemerged from under her skirt.
The slave yoga training area was a popular location for buyers to sample the tongues of the many male slaves passing through that station. As Will performed two particularly aggressive fit women in their forties, naked from the waist down, marched right out into the sea of bobbing erections as the men practiced their moves. Selecting their prey, they maneuvered the men down onto their backs and mounted them sitting on the slave’s faces, grinding their wet pussies into the men while surveying the herd for their next quarry. It appeared they were involved in some sort of contest to see who could climax on the most slave’s faces. To each their own. I wondered how many fruity drinks these ladies had for lunch.
Most of the male slaves spent more time eating pussy than practicing slave yoga and this was true for Will also. I doubt he spent even ten minutes practicing for the about forty-five minutes he was there. I could not have cared less since I didn’t give a damn about his slave grade or his slave yoga proficiency. My man wasn’t for sale, so I didn’t need to worry about pricing. After all, I intended to own him for the rest of our lives.
Finally, Geraldine created a coffle of about ten of them including Will which was led out to the display area. The men were strung up for grading with faces still painted with pussy juice. I noticed that Will maintained a gently bobbing erection for the entire display period earning a Choice Plus grade. It must have been aching at this point, and I wanted to help him out, but it would have been unwise.
I had contemplated visiting him while he was on display, but Esmerelda advised against it and more importantly she introduced me to two ladies that couldn’t wait for office hours to discuss getting their own prenups. I explained the basics, how I used the Smartwatch app to catch Will violating the prenup and set them up with appointments at my office. I had not expected to be bringing in new clients at the slave market, but perhaps I should have. Esmerelda rescued me in time to get down to the smith shop for our slaves’ branding.
(Continued below)
Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
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Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
Before today every time I had been in a slave market, I had always been naked and wearing a collar on the business end as part of the inventory. This was my first time in the public area of this cavernous building that resembled a small shopping mall with a concourse where vendors sell anything slave-related from whips and restraints to slave jewelry and even a small travel agency specializing in slave-cations.
There were flat screen monitors all over the place tracking auctions and other events, much like one might find at an airport for arrivals and departures. Other screens displayed live video feeds from different parts of the market with one showing a lot of six Select slave girls next up for the auction block with poles rising from the ground into their pussies holding them in place. They were all frantically masturbating, priming their slave heat for their pending block dance. I had fond memories of doing the same thing when I was sold.
Walking down the concourse from the conference room, we came upon three displays about fifteen yards apart, each consisting of a naked slave girl on a pedestal that rotated very slowly containing samples of the inventory being put up for sale at the 4:00 p.m. pleasure slut auction. I was in a hurry to get to Will, so they and the people around them were more obstacles to navigate around than items of interest to me.
“Hey, isn’t that the girl from the parking lot. I forgot her name,” exclaimed Esmerelda, sounding a little surprised while stopping to point at the third display holding Amber.
“Amber, that was her name. How’d she end up there for sale? She was only here for a grading,” I replied before asking, “What’s with that pole between her legs?”
There was the age-old adage, bad things happen to naked girls wearing slave collars in a slave market. Along with lots of case law that favored the slave market if the dispute ever got to court. Maybe Amber’s status had changed for the worse I thought as curiosity got the best of me moving in closer for a better look.
Amber was standing naked as the day she was born but for a standard HCI metal slave collar with her bare feet about eighteen inches apart held in place by ankle cuffs. Her arms were pulled up over her head by cuffs attached to her wrists. A sheen of perspiration had Amber absolutely glowing with sensuality as she rotated on display. Her vivid bikini tan lines made her large firm lily-white breasts standout flush with desire capped with protruding rock-hard pink nipples that resembled peppermint gumdrops. What caught my attention the most was a pole between her legs that rose impaling her pussy with a black dildo type device making the same faint humming sound that my vibrator made back home.
Memories of my time as a slave at Middleton Place and being sold at the Old Slave Mart flooded back. I hadn’t seen a pussy pole since the day I was sold on the auction block there as a slave. Licking my lips as a wave of arousal surged through my body, I recalled climaxing on one right before being sold at auction. But this one was different somehow, it wasn’t stationary.
Taking in the sight before me my gaze was naturally drawn to the trembling girl’s swollen labia glistening in the light as rivulets of her fluids ran down the insides of her thighs and even the pole itself. That sounds like I’m some kind of pervert, but her pussy was at eye level for me with her on a pedestal and all. I ran my eyes up her body taking in her erect rose-colored nipples, the shallow panting breaths, and her flushed face with strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty face. Most telling of all were her glazed eyes with the vacant lust filled look of a girl lost in a strong slave haze.
Amber started moving up and down standing on her toes and then back down trying to increase the friction by slowly fucking the pole to no avail. The damned pole moved up and down in unison with her, frustrating her attempts bringing a look of consternation to her pretty face when she failed to increase the stimulation. There was a display on the pedestal with information on the slave along with a large, “NO TOUCHING WITHOUT PERMISSION” warning.
“This isn’t a normal pussy pole or one bar prison. What makes this one unique is that it is managed by an AI that controls the adjustable vibrator lodged in her vagina and the anal tickler up her ass. The AI can edge her until finally pushing her into an intense orgasm. The slave girl riding the pole has no control over when she climaxes, only the machine based on the settings,” confidently explained Esmerelda, demonstrating that she had vastly more experience than I with this particular device. “See how it is moving up and down with her, frustrating her attempts to fuck the pole as it continues to edge her? From the looks of her she has been up there for close to an hour if not longer.”
“She must be devoxed, it looks like she’s moaning but no sounds are coming out,” I observed, taking in the obscene scene before me as I found myself squeezing my thighs together trying to tamp down my own arousal.
“Let’s stick around for the show. It shouldn’t be long now,” snickered Esmerelda, sounding like she knew what was about to happen. “Don’t worry, they won’t brand our slave boys without us.”
We moved closer, standing right behind a hot mom with an attractive daughter and nerd son who both appeared to be Amber’s age. The girl was tall with glossy dark hair, a tight little butt, and small perky breasts with a pretty but plain face maybe due to a lack of makeup although she had observant intelligent eyes. The young man looked like a tall thin nerd with thick glasses, a button down short sleeved shirt, a pocket protector with several pens wearing floods for pants with white socks and brown loafers. The only thing missing was a bow tie although he did have a good-sized tent in the front of his pants.
The young woman suddenly squealed, “Zachary, isn’t that Amber Nelson from school senior year. You know that cheerleader you had a crush on all last year and couldn’t stop talking about. And there she is, a naked slave girl about to climax right before your eyes.”
“Amber, it’s me, Zackery, remember me, I sat next to you in AP chem this year,” the stunned young man, unable to believe his good fortune, babbled, gawking at the spectacular example of female perfection up close. Then the infatuated boy gushed, “You’re beautiful.”
The display stopped rotating, stopping with Amber facing the young man when an automated voice spoke from a speaker on the pedestal, “Sir, you may fondle the slave’s breasts and play with her nipples to assist with her slave-gasm.”
Esmerelda chuckled, “This is priceless,” and she was right!
I saw recognition in Amber’s lust filled eyes at the same time Zackery reached for her breasts with trembling hands. The awe-struck eighteen-year-old boy gently massaged Amber’s breasts as though they were something fragile that might break. Unable to control herself in her slave haze desperate to climax, Amber arched her back enticingly pushing her tits into his hands seeking the added stimulation.
With her hands on her hips his sister pouted, “Mom, do we have to watch this pervert? It’s disgusting.”
The mother tersely replied, clearly leaving no room for discussion, “Yes Annabeth, we do. I want you to know what to expect when I sign you up for four hours of concourse display for the extra points towards your slave grade. That will be you Thursday when you get graded grinding your titties into some stranger’s hands like a horny mindless pleasure slut.”
That seemed to silence the girl momentarily as they took in the spectacle before them. Now the AI was letting Amber rock up and down on the dildo fucking herself with it while pressing her chest into Zackery’s hands as he explored her breasts, almost as if he was touching a woman’s tits for the first time. He was fixated, staring at her large boobies, and gently fondling them like they were fragile things that might break while Amber, by the look on her face, was begging him to maul them, but no sounds were coming out of the frustrated girl’s mouth. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was trying to say.
“Zackery, honey, give her breasts a good firm squeeze, roll her nipples between your finger and thumb, and then pinch her nipples hard. Give them another good firm squeeze. Listen to your mother, that’s what this slut wants you to do.”
Zackery started becoming more aggressive, kneading her milky white breasts like bread dough, putting a radiant smile on Amber’s flushed face as she thrust her titties into his hands. His sister Annabeth shook her head in disgust, "Mom, that has to hurt.
"No, some slaves like it rough when consumed by their slave heat, just like this slut here. You might find yourself enjoying it."
"Oh," responded the girl before whining, “Mom, you’re not really going to make me do that, are you?”
“I’ve signed you up for the Premiere slave grading package that includes all sorts of bonus opportunities for additional points that you can earn to improve your slave grade. That means you will be on display for four hours, serve two hours of stress relief, and be subject to a demonstration discipline session with a whip, tawse, paddle, or goad. I expect you to accept it with the understanding that no matter how much it hurts there will be no permanent marks. You’ll also be spending the night here which should be loads of fun with a mock auction the following day. You know, the Premiere package includes a paired grading for relatives so we could be graded together and put up for the mock auction as a pair.”
Suddenly sounding appreciative Annabeth changed her tone gushing, “Mom, you’d do that for me? Cindy’s mom did that for her and it really helped her get through her grading.”
“HCI studies show that the paired auction increases the bid prices by 50% which also increases your slave grade. Young lady, your father wants to put the two of us up as a pair as Summer Sluts with a high reserve price at the auction Thursday night. It’s billed as Family Fun Night where they hold a specialty auction for related slaves from twins to sisters. Mother/daughter pairings are the most common, but first cousins are also eligible. It would give you an opportunity to try horny juice over the summer while earning money for college,” explained the mother, clearly more excited than her daughter at the prospect.
The automated voice advised Zackery to stimulate the slave’s clitoris right before Annabeth whined, “Do I really have to spend the night here, though?”
The older woman gushed, “I spent the night here when I was regraded last summer as collateral for a business loan for your father. Remember Jimmy Reynolds, the handsome boy down the street who graduated from high school last year that you had a crush on? Well, he had a summer job here working the night shift. When he recognized me, he told me that ever since he saw me in my string bikini with my Prime brand a few years ago at a pool party that I had been his favorite MILF fantasy. That surprisingly well-hung young man pulled me out of my cage and put me over the breeding bench in the breakroom where for the next hour he and his friends …”
“TMI mom!” exclaimed the girl right when Amber, the prolific squirter, did it again, erupting in a massive orgasm squirting her juices like a busted pipe that left her mark on Zachery’s neck and shirt.
Annabeth shrilly squealed, “That’s gross! She just squirted on his shirt,” before turning to her mother and asking, “Will it stain?”
Zachery grinned, quickly glancing towards his sister he announced, “I’m never washing my new favorite shirt again, ever,” without taking his hands off the writhing Amber who was lost in her slave haze savoring her hard-earned orgasm.
When Amber’s frenzy had run its course and the AI advised no more touching, Zachery’s mother pulled out a $20 and handed it to him. Pointing to the gloryhole shop titled Stress Relief she instructed, “Honey, take this to the stress relief shop and get your problem taken care of. Your sister and I will be browsing in the jewelry store or the travel agency waiting for you. Don’t take too long.”
“Like that was going to be a problem,” I snarkily muttered under my breath to Esmerelda while turning to leave.
She grabbed my elbow pulling me back, “Hold on a second, girlfriend. You need to see the one bar prison that they use here when they change out the sluts.”
We stood there with front row seats while Amber’s pedestal lowered the eighteen-year-old who had in mere hours been transformed from a nervous teen in the parking lot into the epitome of what a young pleasure slut for sale should look like. Two wranglers stood waiting with her replacement, an attractive voluptuous black woman sporting incredibly large breasts with big dark nipples. They were Ds if not DDs in my jealous estimate, and firm, gravity defying firm. The slave’s hair was in braids held in a high ponytail that went down to her shoulder blades with a few loose strands framing a beautiful face. What stood out the most were her eyes which sparkled defiantly letting the world know she refused to be broken, and her full, pouty lips were curled in a taunting half-smile as she waited her turn.
When the pedestal reached floor level the one bar retracted, Amber, still lost in her slave haze, moaned in disappointment at the empty feeling when the vaginal phallus slid out with a wet slurp. One of the wranglers swiftly freed Amber from her ankle and wrist straps, cuffed her and moved her off the pedestal.
That is when I saw it, an anal tickler consisting of six inches of small metal anal beads wriggling around like it had a mind of its own demonstrating its flexibility. The black slave girl and I both gasped in unison upon spying the writhing finger of beads. Her eyes popped open in surprise watching the tickler’s movements realizing that it would soon be up her ass doing who knows what to her. I found myself squeezing my thighs together wishing it was going up mine, attempting to discreetly satiate the heat that had been building in my loins since walking into the slave market.
In a knowing tone, Esmerelda giggled, “That slave girl is in for a real treat.” Seeing my curious expression she chuckled, “I should know, I spent an hour on this very pedestal at an after hours party last year. My husband and I spend four weeks each year as the other's FINO slave to spice up our relationship, keeping it fresh. He planned it so I was a slave the night of the party, so he put me on display, and it was simply decadent.”
“Oh wow!” I tittered, not sure what else to say, my surprise evident on my face as I tried imagining this elegant, imperious woman rotating naked wearing only a collar on a pedestal.
Truth be told, I never would have pictured Esmerelda playing slave girl for her husband. That revelation floored me as the tickler suddenly held still when the wrangler pulled out a small eye drop bottle and applied a few drops of lube onto the device.
Waggling her eyebrows at me mischievously Esmerelda explained, “Like you, I wore the collar for a few years as a young woman. I had just turned nineteen when I found myself at the Venus Academy for six months of intensive concubine training. Then for the next three and a half years I was a wealthy man’s companion. Being naturally dominant, I learned to “top from the bottom” with my Master. He didn’t give a damn so long as the sex was good, and I made sure of that by fucking the daylights out of him and whomever else he shared me with. Spending four years on Horny Juice I became sexually aggressive, developing all sorts of shall we say “unique” tastes that I still have even today. Sister, I know you've had a similar experience which led to you enslaving your husband. Mine is more dominant like me so that wouldn’t work for us."
Surprised, I asked, "How’d you know that about me?"
"Oh honey, I looked you up in the national slave registry on my phone while watching your case in court. I was intrigued by the attractive young woman enforcing a FINO slavery prenuptial agreement on her husband after only forty-eight hours of marriage. I’ve never seen that before!" exclaimed Esmerelda. "Over the years I’ve developed a pretty keen eye for spotting former slaves and just had to know more."
A wrangler had secured the new slave girl in place when the phallus slowly extended, impaling her vagina while the anal tickler worked its way up her ass. A silent gasp escaped the devoxed slave’s pillowy lips as the device started vibrating within her as the pedestal rose and began to slowly rotate while we talked.
“My Mistress limited my ability to top her husband from below but that didn’t stop me from trying whenever I could get away with it,” I chuckled with a knowing grin. “I too, have retained some “special interests”, shall we say, from my days as a slave girl.”
“If you think this display is intense, there’s another one around the corner where the slave is strung up just like this one, but instead of a pussy pole the sluts are held in place by a large anal hook with a remotely controlled vibrator in her vagina. Sometimes they attach remote controlled nipple clamps that customers set to vibrate or even give a little painful shock to the slave. There are vibrating wands available for a fee that can be used to stimulate the slut as she’s held in place losing herself in her slave haze,” teased Esmerelda, running her tongue over her lips suggestively.
“Sounds like that was one hell of a night,” I retorted, waggling my eyebrows for emphasis.
Smiling lasciviously Esmerelda winked, “I can get you an invite to the next one if you’re interested,” implying that it had been invigorating at the least, almost daring me to accept her offer. “My friend Belinda just loved the sensations from having a vibrator on high rubbed on that anal hook. She still to this day can’t stop talking about how much fun she had being her husband’s slut that night.”
Waggling my eyebrows I asked, “Is she a switch like you?”
“Oh, heavens no!” laughed Esmerelda. “Belinda’s a kinky submissive slut that thrives on public sex, punishment, and humiliation. Over the years her husband Bud has come up with all sorts of creative ways to scratch her itch. She relishes in her role as Bud’s slut when not keeping up appearances as HCI’s Vice President in charge of Finance, Accounting, and Analytics for the Texas/Oklahoma/Kansas region. It’s a strange world where the woman that fantasizes about being a collared pleasure slut designed the analytics program for the profitability of the Prime and Choice pleasure sluts sold by HCI”
Glancing at the slave I gasped in surprise when I saw her backside when she rotated around. The poor slave girl had crisscrossed welts from a cane covering her ass and upper thighs. The spacing and conformity in size indicated that they were delivered by an experienced wrangler that knew exactly what he was doing. So, this girl was likely a discipline problem unless she was some sort of pain slut.
“What happened to her?” I exclaimed, my concern evident by the expression on my face.
Esmerelda frowned, pursing her lips, looking at her iPad, “Let me find her in the sales catalog.”
When the slave rotated back around her face was taking on an expression of bliss and her eyes were glazing over as she transitioned into her slave haze. At least she had mastered that survival skill set well. Glancing down her body I noticed for the first time the small “P” brand to the right of her clitoris that perfectly matched my own. So, this slave was trained, graded, and sold at an Old Slave Mart facility like me. I felt an instant bond with the poor girl based on shared experiences.
“According to the condition report she’s one Cassandra Okafor, an International Arrival Servant from Nigeria that was reclassified down from Prime to Choice at this HCI facility about a year ago and then transported to your alma mater Middleton Place for two months of Horny Juice induced pleasure slut training. She graded back up to Prime minus for her sale at auction after her training,” advised Esmerelda.
My disdain was evident when I scoffed, “I’m familiar with the International Arrival Servant program.”
I knew the program well; it was rife with fraud. It provided immigrants with a green card after serving a five-year term of enslavement in the US. Most are desperate young women who are trying to obtain residency status in the US. When she was regraded a whole classification lower than the grade given to her in Nigeria, it made the original grading fraudulent subjecting her to penalties which doubled her term from five to ten years. The fraud finding also eliminated her ability to obtain a green card and now she had the option to accept a lifetime enslavement or be deported at the end of her now ten-year term with nothing to show for it.
“Her file says she completed two years at the prestigious University of Ibadan in Nigeria studying public health before enslavement and was one of the ten percent like yourself that did not succumb to slave mind during her training. She’s had discipline issues ever since and is being resold a second time, since falling way short of her reserve price yesterday. They are trying again at this afternoon’s auction,” said Esmerelda with a contemplative expression on her face. “Although by the look of her they won’t succeed.”
“The women that survive the Middleton Place training without succumbing to slave mind are all strong, intelligent, driven women with a future to be something more than spending a decade as someone’s sex toy. I know what it takes to get out of there with one’s faculties intact,” I added.
“It looks like she didn’t take kindly to her reclassification,” sighed Esmerelda.
“Who can blame her?” I snapped.
Giving me a suggestive look, Esmerelda proposed, “A clever and foresightful person could buy her for something else, say a paralegal or personal assistant?”
“I don’t think I can afford to take on a slave right now,” I sighed, “Although I admit the idea is intriguing.”
“Well, the show’s over here. Let’s go, our merchandise is waiting for us,” chuckled Esmerelda, grabbing me by the elbow and leading me away.
(To be continued.)
There were flat screen monitors all over the place tracking auctions and other events, much like one might find at an airport for arrivals and departures. Other screens displayed live video feeds from different parts of the market with one showing a lot of six Select slave girls next up for the auction block with poles rising from the ground into their pussies holding them in place. They were all frantically masturbating, priming their slave heat for their pending block dance. I had fond memories of doing the same thing when I was sold.
Walking down the concourse from the conference room, we came upon three displays about fifteen yards apart, each consisting of a naked slave girl on a pedestal that rotated very slowly containing samples of the inventory being put up for sale at the 4:00 p.m. pleasure slut auction. I was in a hurry to get to Will, so they and the people around them were more obstacles to navigate around than items of interest to me.
“Hey, isn’t that the girl from the parking lot. I forgot her name,” exclaimed Esmerelda, sounding a little surprised while stopping to point at the third display holding Amber.
“Amber, that was her name. How’d she end up there for sale? She was only here for a grading,” I replied before asking, “What’s with that pole between her legs?”
There was the age-old adage, bad things happen to naked girls wearing slave collars in a slave market. Along with lots of case law that favored the slave market if the dispute ever got to court. Maybe Amber’s status had changed for the worse I thought as curiosity got the best of me moving in closer for a better look.
Amber was standing naked as the day she was born but for a standard HCI metal slave collar with her bare feet about eighteen inches apart held in place by ankle cuffs. Her arms were pulled up over her head by cuffs attached to her wrists. A sheen of perspiration had Amber absolutely glowing with sensuality as she rotated on display. Her vivid bikini tan lines made her large firm lily-white breasts standout flush with desire capped with protruding rock-hard pink nipples that resembled peppermint gumdrops. What caught my attention the most was a pole between her legs that rose impaling her pussy with a black dildo type device making the same faint humming sound that my vibrator made back home.
Memories of my time as a slave at Middleton Place and being sold at the Old Slave Mart flooded back. I hadn’t seen a pussy pole since the day I was sold on the auction block there as a slave. Licking my lips as a wave of arousal surged through my body, I recalled climaxing on one right before being sold at auction. But this one was different somehow, it wasn’t stationary.
Taking in the sight before me my gaze was naturally drawn to the trembling girl’s swollen labia glistening in the light as rivulets of her fluids ran down the insides of her thighs and even the pole itself. That sounds like I’m some kind of pervert, but her pussy was at eye level for me with her on a pedestal and all. I ran my eyes up her body taking in her erect rose-colored nipples, the shallow panting breaths, and her flushed face with strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty face. Most telling of all were her glazed eyes with the vacant lust filled look of a girl lost in a strong slave haze.
Amber started moving up and down standing on her toes and then back down trying to increase the friction by slowly fucking the pole to no avail. The damned pole moved up and down in unison with her, frustrating her attempts bringing a look of consternation to her pretty face when she failed to increase the stimulation. There was a display on the pedestal with information on the slave along with a large, “NO TOUCHING WITHOUT PERMISSION” warning.
“This isn’t a normal pussy pole or one bar prison. What makes this one unique is that it is managed by an AI that controls the adjustable vibrator lodged in her vagina and the anal tickler up her ass. The AI can edge her until finally pushing her into an intense orgasm. The slave girl riding the pole has no control over when she climaxes, only the machine based on the settings,” confidently explained Esmerelda, demonstrating that she had vastly more experience than I with this particular device. “See how it is moving up and down with her, frustrating her attempts to fuck the pole as it continues to edge her? From the looks of her she has been up there for close to an hour if not longer.”
“She must be devoxed, it looks like she’s moaning but no sounds are coming out,” I observed, taking in the obscene scene before me as I found myself squeezing my thighs together trying to tamp down my own arousal.
“Let’s stick around for the show. It shouldn’t be long now,” snickered Esmerelda, sounding like she knew what was about to happen. “Don’t worry, they won’t brand our slave boys without us.”
We moved closer, standing right behind a hot mom with an attractive daughter and nerd son who both appeared to be Amber’s age. The girl was tall with glossy dark hair, a tight little butt, and small perky breasts with a pretty but plain face maybe due to a lack of makeup although she had observant intelligent eyes. The young man looked like a tall thin nerd with thick glasses, a button down short sleeved shirt, a pocket protector with several pens wearing floods for pants with white socks and brown loafers. The only thing missing was a bow tie although he did have a good-sized tent in the front of his pants.
The young woman suddenly squealed, “Zachary, isn’t that Amber Nelson from school senior year. You know that cheerleader you had a crush on all last year and couldn’t stop talking about. And there she is, a naked slave girl about to climax right before your eyes.”
“Amber, it’s me, Zackery, remember me, I sat next to you in AP chem this year,” the stunned young man, unable to believe his good fortune, babbled, gawking at the spectacular example of female perfection up close. Then the infatuated boy gushed, “You’re beautiful.”
The display stopped rotating, stopping with Amber facing the young man when an automated voice spoke from a speaker on the pedestal, “Sir, you may fondle the slave’s breasts and play with her nipples to assist with her slave-gasm.”
Esmerelda chuckled, “This is priceless,” and she was right!
I saw recognition in Amber’s lust filled eyes at the same time Zackery reached for her breasts with trembling hands. The awe-struck eighteen-year-old boy gently massaged Amber’s breasts as though they were something fragile that might break. Unable to control herself in her slave haze desperate to climax, Amber arched her back enticingly pushing her tits into his hands seeking the added stimulation.
With her hands on her hips his sister pouted, “Mom, do we have to watch this pervert? It’s disgusting.”
The mother tersely replied, clearly leaving no room for discussion, “Yes Annabeth, we do. I want you to know what to expect when I sign you up for four hours of concourse display for the extra points towards your slave grade. That will be you Thursday when you get graded grinding your titties into some stranger’s hands like a horny mindless pleasure slut.”
That seemed to silence the girl momentarily as they took in the spectacle before them. Now the AI was letting Amber rock up and down on the dildo fucking herself with it while pressing her chest into Zackery’s hands as he explored her breasts, almost as if he was touching a woman’s tits for the first time. He was fixated, staring at her large boobies, and gently fondling them like they were fragile things that might break while Amber, by the look on her face, was begging him to maul them, but no sounds were coming out of the frustrated girl’s mouth. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was trying to say.
“Zackery, honey, give her breasts a good firm squeeze, roll her nipples between your finger and thumb, and then pinch her nipples hard. Give them another good firm squeeze. Listen to your mother, that’s what this slut wants you to do.”
Zackery started becoming more aggressive, kneading her milky white breasts like bread dough, putting a radiant smile on Amber’s flushed face as she thrust her titties into his hands. His sister Annabeth shook her head in disgust, "Mom, that has to hurt.
"No, some slaves like it rough when consumed by their slave heat, just like this slut here. You might find yourself enjoying it."
"Oh," responded the girl before whining, “Mom, you’re not really going to make me do that, are you?”
“I’ve signed you up for the Premiere slave grading package that includes all sorts of bonus opportunities for additional points that you can earn to improve your slave grade. That means you will be on display for four hours, serve two hours of stress relief, and be subject to a demonstration discipline session with a whip, tawse, paddle, or goad. I expect you to accept it with the understanding that no matter how much it hurts there will be no permanent marks. You’ll also be spending the night here which should be loads of fun with a mock auction the following day. You know, the Premiere package includes a paired grading for relatives so we could be graded together and put up for the mock auction as a pair.”
Suddenly sounding appreciative Annabeth changed her tone gushing, “Mom, you’d do that for me? Cindy’s mom did that for her and it really helped her get through her grading.”
“HCI studies show that the paired auction increases the bid prices by 50% which also increases your slave grade. Young lady, your father wants to put the two of us up as a pair as Summer Sluts with a high reserve price at the auction Thursday night. It’s billed as Family Fun Night where they hold a specialty auction for related slaves from twins to sisters. Mother/daughter pairings are the most common, but first cousins are also eligible. It would give you an opportunity to try horny juice over the summer while earning money for college,” explained the mother, clearly more excited than her daughter at the prospect.
The automated voice advised Zackery to stimulate the slave’s clitoris right before Annabeth whined, “Do I really have to spend the night here, though?”
The older woman gushed, “I spent the night here when I was regraded last summer as collateral for a business loan for your father. Remember Jimmy Reynolds, the handsome boy down the street who graduated from high school last year that you had a crush on? Well, he had a summer job here working the night shift. When he recognized me, he told me that ever since he saw me in my string bikini with my Prime brand a few years ago at a pool party that I had been his favorite MILF fantasy. That surprisingly well-hung young man pulled me out of my cage and put me over the breeding bench in the breakroom where for the next hour he and his friends …”
“TMI mom!” exclaimed the girl right when Amber, the prolific squirter, did it again, erupting in a massive orgasm squirting her juices like a busted pipe that left her mark on Zachery’s neck and shirt.
Annabeth shrilly squealed, “That’s gross! She just squirted on his shirt,” before turning to her mother and asking, “Will it stain?”
Zachery grinned, quickly glancing towards his sister he announced, “I’m never washing my new favorite shirt again, ever,” without taking his hands off the writhing Amber who was lost in her slave haze savoring her hard-earned orgasm.
When Amber’s frenzy had run its course and the AI advised no more touching, Zachery’s mother pulled out a $20 and handed it to him. Pointing to the gloryhole shop titled Stress Relief she instructed, “Honey, take this to the stress relief shop and get your problem taken care of. Your sister and I will be browsing in the jewelry store or the travel agency waiting for you. Don’t take too long.”
“Like that was going to be a problem,” I snarkily muttered under my breath to Esmerelda while turning to leave.
She grabbed my elbow pulling me back, “Hold on a second, girlfriend. You need to see the one bar prison that they use here when they change out the sluts.”
We stood there with front row seats while Amber’s pedestal lowered the eighteen-year-old who had in mere hours been transformed from a nervous teen in the parking lot into the epitome of what a young pleasure slut for sale should look like. Two wranglers stood waiting with her replacement, an attractive voluptuous black woman sporting incredibly large breasts with big dark nipples. They were Ds if not DDs in my jealous estimate, and firm, gravity defying firm. The slave’s hair was in braids held in a high ponytail that went down to her shoulder blades with a few loose strands framing a beautiful face. What stood out the most were her eyes which sparkled defiantly letting the world know she refused to be broken, and her full, pouty lips were curled in a taunting half-smile as she waited her turn.
When the pedestal reached floor level the one bar retracted, Amber, still lost in her slave haze, moaned in disappointment at the empty feeling when the vaginal phallus slid out with a wet slurp. One of the wranglers swiftly freed Amber from her ankle and wrist straps, cuffed her and moved her off the pedestal.
That is when I saw it, an anal tickler consisting of six inches of small metal anal beads wriggling around like it had a mind of its own demonstrating its flexibility. The black slave girl and I both gasped in unison upon spying the writhing finger of beads. Her eyes popped open in surprise watching the tickler’s movements realizing that it would soon be up her ass doing who knows what to her. I found myself squeezing my thighs together wishing it was going up mine, attempting to discreetly satiate the heat that had been building in my loins since walking into the slave market.
In a knowing tone, Esmerelda giggled, “That slave girl is in for a real treat.” Seeing my curious expression she chuckled, “I should know, I spent an hour on this very pedestal at an after hours party last year. My husband and I spend four weeks each year as the other's FINO slave to spice up our relationship, keeping it fresh. He planned it so I was a slave the night of the party, so he put me on display, and it was simply decadent.”
“Oh wow!” I tittered, not sure what else to say, my surprise evident on my face as I tried imagining this elegant, imperious woman rotating naked wearing only a collar on a pedestal.
Truth be told, I never would have pictured Esmerelda playing slave girl for her husband. That revelation floored me as the tickler suddenly held still when the wrangler pulled out a small eye drop bottle and applied a few drops of lube onto the device.
Waggling her eyebrows at me mischievously Esmerelda explained, “Like you, I wore the collar for a few years as a young woman. I had just turned nineteen when I found myself at the Venus Academy for six months of intensive concubine training. Then for the next three and a half years I was a wealthy man’s companion. Being naturally dominant, I learned to “top from the bottom” with my Master. He didn’t give a damn so long as the sex was good, and I made sure of that by fucking the daylights out of him and whomever else he shared me with. Spending four years on Horny Juice I became sexually aggressive, developing all sorts of shall we say “unique” tastes that I still have even today. Sister, I know you've had a similar experience which led to you enslaving your husband. Mine is more dominant like me so that wouldn’t work for us."
Surprised, I asked, "How’d you know that about me?"
"Oh honey, I looked you up in the national slave registry on my phone while watching your case in court. I was intrigued by the attractive young woman enforcing a FINO slavery prenuptial agreement on her husband after only forty-eight hours of marriage. I’ve never seen that before!" exclaimed Esmerelda. "Over the years I’ve developed a pretty keen eye for spotting former slaves and just had to know more."
A wrangler had secured the new slave girl in place when the phallus slowly extended, impaling her vagina while the anal tickler worked its way up her ass. A silent gasp escaped the devoxed slave’s pillowy lips as the device started vibrating within her as the pedestal rose and began to slowly rotate while we talked.
“My Mistress limited my ability to top her husband from below but that didn’t stop me from trying whenever I could get away with it,” I chuckled with a knowing grin. “I too, have retained some “special interests”, shall we say, from my days as a slave girl.”
“If you think this display is intense, there’s another one around the corner where the slave is strung up just like this one, but instead of a pussy pole the sluts are held in place by a large anal hook with a remotely controlled vibrator in her vagina. Sometimes they attach remote controlled nipple clamps that customers set to vibrate or even give a little painful shock to the slave. There are vibrating wands available for a fee that can be used to stimulate the slut as she’s held in place losing herself in her slave haze,” teased Esmerelda, running her tongue over her lips suggestively.
“Sounds like that was one hell of a night,” I retorted, waggling my eyebrows for emphasis.
Smiling lasciviously Esmerelda winked, “I can get you an invite to the next one if you’re interested,” implying that it had been invigorating at the least, almost daring me to accept her offer. “My friend Belinda just loved the sensations from having a vibrator on high rubbed on that anal hook. She still to this day can’t stop talking about how much fun she had being her husband’s slut that night.”
Waggling my eyebrows I asked, “Is she a switch like you?”
“Oh, heavens no!” laughed Esmerelda. “Belinda’s a kinky submissive slut that thrives on public sex, punishment, and humiliation. Over the years her husband Bud has come up with all sorts of creative ways to scratch her itch. She relishes in her role as Bud’s slut when not keeping up appearances as HCI’s Vice President in charge of Finance, Accounting, and Analytics for the Texas/Oklahoma/Kansas region. It’s a strange world where the woman that fantasizes about being a collared pleasure slut designed the analytics program for the profitability of the Prime and Choice pleasure sluts sold by HCI”
Glancing at the slave I gasped in surprise when I saw her backside when she rotated around. The poor slave girl had crisscrossed welts from a cane covering her ass and upper thighs. The spacing and conformity in size indicated that they were delivered by an experienced wrangler that knew exactly what he was doing. So, this girl was likely a discipline problem unless she was some sort of pain slut.
“What happened to her?” I exclaimed, my concern evident by the expression on my face.
Esmerelda frowned, pursing her lips, looking at her iPad, “Let me find her in the sales catalog.”
When the slave rotated back around her face was taking on an expression of bliss and her eyes were glazing over as she transitioned into her slave haze. At least she had mastered that survival skill set well. Glancing down her body I noticed for the first time the small “P” brand to the right of her clitoris that perfectly matched my own. So, this slave was trained, graded, and sold at an Old Slave Mart facility like me. I felt an instant bond with the poor girl based on shared experiences.
“According to the condition report she’s one Cassandra Okafor, an International Arrival Servant from Nigeria that was reclassified down from Prime to Choice at this HCI facility about a year ago and then transported to your alma mater Middleton Place for two months of Horny Juice induced pleasure slut training. She graded back up to Prime minus for her sale at auction after her training,” advised Esmerelda.
My disdain was evident when I scoffed, “I’m familiar with the International Arrival Servant program.”
I knew the program well; it was rife with fraud. It provided immigrants with a green card after serving a five-year term of enslavement in the US. Most are desperate young women who are trying to obtain residency status in the US. When she was regraded a whole classification lower than the grade given to her in Nigeria, it made the original grading fraudulent subjecting her to penalties which doubled her term from five to ten years. The fraud finding also eliminated her ability to obtain a green card and now she had the option to accept a lifetime enslavement or be deported at the end of her now ten-year term with nothing to show for it.
“Her file says she completed two years at the prestigious University of Ibadan in Nigeria studying public health before enslavement and was one of the ten percent like yourself that did not succumb to slave mind during her training. She’s had discipline issues ever since and is being resold a second time, since falling way short of her reserve price yesterday. They are trying again at this afternoon’s auction,” said Esmerelda with a contemplative expression on her face. “Although by the look of her they won’t succeed.”
“The women that survive the Middleton Place training without succumbing to slave mind are all strong, intelligent, driven women with a future to be something more than spending a decade as someone’s sex toy. I know what it takes to get out of there with one’s faculties intact,” I added.
“It looks like she didn’t take kindly to her reclassification,” sighed Esmerelda.
“Who can blame her?” I snapped.
Giving me a suggestive look, Esmerelda proposed, “A clever and foresightful person could buy her for something else, say a paralegal or personal assistant?”
“I don’t think I can afford to take on a slave right now,” I sighed, “Although I admit the idea is intriguing.”
“Well, the show’s over here. Let’s go, our merchandise is waiting for us,” chuckled Esmerelda, grabbing me by the elbow and leading me away.
(To be continued.)
- These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post (total 7):
- LoyalHound • audiq9 • underdog_13 • timerider • jean.amelot • Carl Bradford • JustBob
Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
I lost power at home yesterday otherwise I would have posted this earlier. I wanted to do a poll asking who readers would like to see stuck on a pussy pole (one bar prison) getting their slave heat ramped up before going onto the auction block.
Question: Who do you want to see impaled on a pussy pole about to hit the auction block in the next chapter?
1. Amber. This seems like a no brainer.
2. Amber and her MILF mom Hayden
3. Savannah. Josh's MILF mom. I would suggest Josh but it is not a biological possibility.
4. Jing. Stranger things have happened,
5. Annabeth and her MILF mom.
6. Belinda.
7. Fuck it, sell them all!
There were some images that I found on Deviant Art that inspired this chapter, in particular, the anal hook chain restraint that Belinda found herself in. I figured I'd share. In the picture the silly slave girl put it in the wrong hole. That is an easily corrected error.
Now if you want to see a slave girl hooked in the correct hole go to metalbondage.com and look up "ass hook". These guys are incredible. They are the same people that did the above picture.
Question: Who do you want to see impaled on a pussy pole about to hit the auction block in the next chapter?
1. Amber. This seems like a no brainer.
2. Amber and her MILF mom Hayden
3. Savannah. Josh's MILF mom. I would suggest Josh but it is not a biological possibility.
4. Jing. Stranger things have happened,
5. Annabeth and her MILF mom.
6. Belinda.
7. Fuck it, sell them all!
There were some images that I found on Deviant Art that inspired this chapter, in particular, the anal hook chain restraint that Belinda found herself in. I figured I'd share. In the picture the silly slave girl put it in the wrong hole. That is an easily corrected error.
Now if you want to see a slave girl hooked in the correct hole go to metalbondage.com and look up "ass hook". These guys are incredible. They are the same people that did the above picture.
- These users thanked the author Mr. Smith for the post (total 2):
- jean.amelot • timerider
Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
Thank you for continuing this story. Hopefully we won’t have to wait so long for the next chapter. This one was great and I can’t wait to see what happens next. Well done.
Jim
Jim
Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
Timerider wrote, 
JustBob wrote,
@JustBob, after getting Will through his branding and all that entails I promise to incorporate the phrase "Cock-Drunk" later in the chapter. Wiktionary defines it as "in an incoherent and libidinous state due to intercourse with a penis." Then the Urban Dictionary defines it as "one whom is or is in the act of being in a stupor caused by overexposure to male genitalia." From Reddit, "It's real. My fiancé will tell me she's getting "cock drunk" during sex. She describes it like a kind of euphoria and floating sensation." This phenomenon of women becoming cock drunk must be a real thing. Just Google it. Now the definitions vary from plain intercourse to the more expansive exposure to cock which would include so much more.
I guarantee that I will have at least one "cock drunk" slave girl in the next chapter using the more expansive definition. Unfortunately, I have two twenty-page draft versions that I had to print out and am in the process of reconciling. It is a tedious task that I hate in favor of posting the next chapter of the Christmas Coed on which I am doing the final edits. I also promise to make Belinda "cock drunk" at some point in her story before she leaves the Big D.
So many possibilities.
You definitely live life to the fullest.No# 7 Fuck it, sell them all!
JustBob wrote,
I never pictured Esmerelda getting sold, but I will say that more than one person who entered the HCI slave market expecting to walk out the front door a free person will instead depart from shipping in a poodle cage.Jing, Esmerelda and Amber. Good story, although I prefer men as the tops. More please!
@JustBob, after getting Will through his branding and all that entails I promise to incorporate the phrase "Cock-Drunk" later in the chapter. Wiktionary defines it as "in an incoherent and libidinous state due to intercourse with a penis." Then the Urban Dictionary defines it as "one whom is or is in the act of being in a stupor caused by overexposure to male genitalia." From Reddit, "It's real. My fiancé will tell me she's getting "cock drunk" during sex. She describes it like a kind of euphoria and floating sensation." This phenomenon of women becoming cock drunk must be a real thing. Just Google it. Now the definitions vary from plain intercourse to the more expansive exposure to cock which would include so much more.
I guarantee that I will have at least one "cock drunk" slave girl in the next chapter using the more expansive definition. Unfortunately, I have two twenty-page draft versions that I had to print out and am in the process of reconciling. It is a tedious task that I hate in favor of posting the next chapter of the Christmas Coed on which I am doing the final edits. I also promise to make Belinda "cock drunk" at some point in her story before she leaves the Big D.
So many possibilities.
Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
I look forward to reading them. I hope you finish Slave Girl Next Door. I really want to see our heroine branded, FINOed and happily ever after!
Re: Captured, Collared and Trained Ch 3. Adventures at HCI
@JustBob,
It may be a while before I circle back to The Slave Girl Next Door as I need to get this story and the Christmas Coed done. Some of the characters in this story will make an appearance in The Slave Girl Next Door. The next chapter starts from Lindsey Williams's perspective in Carl Bradford's A Sabadical in Slavery. As a writer, I am a failure, never having finished a story.
It may be a while before I circle back to The Slave Girl Next Door as I need to get this story and the Christmas Coed done. Some of the characters in this story will make an appearance in The Slave Girl Next Door. The next chapter starts from Lindsey Williams's perspective in Carl Bradford's A Sabadical in Slavery. As a writer, I am a failure, never having finished a story.