Gabriela's Enslavement
Posted: Tue Aug 09, 2022 8:36 am
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Gabriela’s Enslavement
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Author's note: I originally had no intention of writing this story. I had planned to keep it as a backstory, only revealed it brief discussions during someone else’s story. Gabriela is a recurring character in my "Stallion" stories. She is the mother of Gwen Bellefleur, who is the primary love interest of Hank/Hammer.
This story describes events 22 years before "Stallion - Arrival" and a few years after the Reinstitution of slavery. Criminal slavery has been around for a few years. Due to the inadequacies of criminal slavery (i.e., too few sexy young female slaves who were not tooth-rotted meth-heads), debt slavery and voluntary slavery have been added to the mix. But it's still the "Wild West" years of slavery and most of the institutions and controls of modern slavery have yet to be instituted. But the outline is there. We will follow it to the best of our ability.
Credits: Joe Doe for letting me use the Big D auction house and Jake Henry. Joe, if you have any objections to anything I wrote, please let me know and I'll change it.
Also, credit to Avvy, Eroticstoryspinner, Carl Bradford, and Mr. Smith for comments and edits. I started this project 10 days ago and this wouldn't have been possible without their help. Sometimes you have a fully formed project in your head and it just bursts out of you.
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Here And Now: I bring you a tale of star-crossed lovers!
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There she is, terrified and alone. She waits in darkness. Her life is in ruins. Her budding career in slavery finance is destroyed. She is on the hook for literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. The maximum indenture for debt is seven years and she is almost certain to serve all of it. She has provisionally been graded “Prime”, but that won’t matter if she can’t put on a dynamite block routine. If a girl doesn’t sell in the Prime range, she isn’t Prime.
She knows that. She accepts it. She is ready.
She is objectively beautiful. She knows that, too. She has had a target on her back since her early teens when the outline of her future maturity began falling into place. Every girl in the modern world knows that the prettier you are, the more people there are who want to seduce or enslave you. It’s a fact of modern life with slavery legal again. So she was careful. She was clever. She learned all the rules, she learned all the tricks, she even made enslaving people for debt her profession. And none of it saved her. It had happened anyway.
The door of the cattle chute opened. Her handler pushed her forward, and she rushed out into the sands of the auction arena. The bright lights blinded her… but that didn’t faze her, she knew it was coming. She didn't need to see them, she knew they were there. She herself had been in this exact crowd many times. The roiling crowd of onlookers and gawkers made their presence known by roaring their approval from the darkness beyond the halogen lights. Somewhere out there was a Man, somewhere out there was THE man, the Man who would buy her, the Man who would save her. He was out there. She had hope. She had confidence. He would find her, buy her, and she would be his. He would care for her, protect her, value her and perhaps even love her… but he would absolutely and unequivocally value her because she would be the best and she was going to cost him a LOT of money. She was worth it, and she knew it.
She skidded to a halt in the sand, transitioning gracefully into the “present” position. First impressions are important. Here and now, at this time and place, demeanor means everything. Some girls stumbled out of the chute sobbing and confused. Others came out terrified but determined.
Gabriela Chavez, currently known as “slave 5993”, came here to make a sale.
“MASTER!” she shouted. “Here I am! Buy me!”
Gabbie smiled her brightest cheerleader smile while she did so. It was a false smile, and the bidders knew it was a lie. But it was a lie they liked, so it was worth telling.
She struck a second pose, and then another, moving seamlessly between the lewd and demeaning positions of slave yoga, all with a level of gracefulness and poise rarely seen on the auction block.
“Here I am, Master, this is for you! I am tight, I am ready, I am willing!”
After each mantra, she shifted to the next outrageously revealing pose.
“Master!” she shouted, slapping her round bottom while displaying her ass, “fuck my asshole, it exists for your pleasure!”
The rabble and riff-raff roared their approval. As she spun and turned and whipped her hair at the crowd of unseen onlookers, she occasionally caught a glimpse of the bidding screen above the auctioneer, the auctioneer who was SELLING her - no time to think of that now – and she saw the same icon appear again and again. Every time someone bid, G422 topped them. Every time someone upped the ante, G422 struck again like a rattlesnake. Whoever G422 was, he was not to be denied. He would own her.
“Master!” she cried, “this is your pussy, I brought it here for you! It is yours!”
With each bid, the term of her slavery and the cost to Gabriela in suffering and lost youth ticked slowly upward, driven by the harsh calculus of net present value and financial derivatives. Gabriela had excelled in the math of computing the value of human lives. She understood exactly what was happening and why. The more a buyer paid for a slave, the more service he expected to receive. The algorithms were driven by uncaring mathematical analysis. The government actuaries who wrote these programs were technically human, but their souls were not.
“Master,” she pleaded, “my mouth is yours, use me as you will! I exist to serve you!”
The bidding ticked upward. The years of service ticked upward as well. The auction price approached the total debt that Gabriela's no-good relatives had put her on the hook for. Gabriela's term in bondage was approaching the magical 7-year mark. The debt would be paid in full and the banks would be satisfied. The seven-year limit on debt slavery was a holdover from pre-Reinstitution law when individuals were permitted to declare bankruptcy. And THAT in turn came directly from the Bible. Deuteronomy 15, to be precise. At that point, if the bidding continued, the years of service would begin to inch downward. Slowly.
The bank would still continue to reap the sole profit from the transaction, but Gabriela would be rewarded for overcompensating them with the quality of her collateral. "Collateral" meaning her naked body.
For every undeserved and unjust dollar that her enslavers extracted from her downfall, Gabbie would receive a small bit of freedom in return. She meant to regain as much of her life as possible. And if her enslavers profited thereby? Fuck 'em, the Lord knows they were trying to fuck HER.
At this point, having reached the "magic mile", the bidders were paying more money for less service. If Gabriela had been a Prime Plus slave, bought for millions of dollars, her term of service might have been driven down to three and a half years. But that wasn't likely to happen. She wasn't a famous model or actress; she was merely an extremely attractive young woman. The bidders' enthusiasm would wane rapidly now.
Gabriela couldn't let that happen. Gathering the remaining shreds of her ability to influence her future, she sprang into action. Already sweating under the harsh lighting, she pivoted away from the crowd, dipped into a deep crouch, tossed her hair over her right shoulder, and looked back over her left. Then she began to twerk.
"Look at this ass, Master! Don't you want to own it? How much do you want it? Because it wants YOU! This is YOUR new ass! Your new play toy! Come and get it now!"
The bidding started to pick up again. The buyers began to realize that this was no mere pretty face. This was not a common pleasure slut born with the right combination of physical traits; she was something else, something special. Wealthy men often bought pretty faces so that they could use them, abuse them, and then... after they grew bored... dispose of them. But this girl was special. She could keep a man entertained for months... years even, with the right incentives. She was spicy.
The bidding picked up again but then began to level off. Bidder G422 regained his dominating position but began to hesitate. He seemed to be growing bored of this competition. The Big D contained easier prey. Sensing weakness, the sharks gathered, and G422 lost ground.
Gabriela had two more tricks. Most girls abandoned slave yoga once they reached the magical age of 18 and submitted to their first slave grading. Most women never slave-graded again. Why bother? They had achieved the minimum legal requirements. Anything further was unnecessary effort and risk.
But not Gabriela. Her course of study made the risks clear to her. She wasn't about to show up on the sands of the Big D auction house carrying "freshman 40" pounds of unnecessary fat combined with years of stiffening ligaments. She practiced her yoga routine every night while her roommate was out. The narrow space between their dorm room bunks wasn't an obstacle, it was a challenge.
Gabriela pivoted into her second-to-last bold move... her penultimate attempt to attract the wealthy and powerful protector she needed. Slavery has many bad endings and few good ones. Gabriela was determined to be one of the lucky - and deserving - few.
Taking up the same semi-crouched pose as before, Gabriela began to twerk again. But this time she wasn't just bouncing her booty, she was bouncing her breasts. She had seen it once on an old black and white newsreel as a teen. The unnamed burlesque dancer had somehow managed to simultaneously twirl her breasts in opposite directions while dancing. Gabriela had eventually learned to do the same thing alone in her dorm room. In her mind, it was the raunchiest possible display of sexual availability.
“Master!” she screamed while giving the unseen crowd her most dazzling smile. She was excited to be here, she wanted to be here, and she needed her future Master to know that. “See me, know me, love me... these are your boobies that I am bouncing for you! Buy them and love them and know them as only you can! I am yours, Master, come and get me!”
Bidder G422 struck down yet another rival as the bidding pool narrowed. That was it, this was He, bidder G422 was the worthy one! He was the man who would own her; she could feel it. As she began to run out of block moves, she began to despair. She began to accept that her youth was over and that she would become the plaything of the mysterious G422. Her heart began to empty, her slave heat began to cool… Gabriela’s enthusiasm started to waver. She was losing momentum.
No! Not now and not ever! Gabriela would survive! She would make this unchosen fate her own!
She began the countdown to her final trick of the night. Her audience was male. Her potential buyers were men. It is and will always be the subtext of slavery. Masters are men, sex slaves are women. Variations exist, but they aren't important. They do not exist in sufficient numbers. Gabriela knew the numbers. She knew the odds, and she knew that they favored her. She needed the right Man, she needed the right Prince with the right price, and she needed him now. Right now, while her entire future teetered on disaster and destruction... she needed Him now, and she was going to call unto his power to save her.
The first time it happened, Gabriela was horribly embarrassed. She was terribly ashamed. She had spent the remainder of the evening furiously scrubbing away the evidence of her sexual crime with wet-wipes and Clorox bleach. When her roommate returned, she only smelled scented cleaning products and saw Gabriela “asleep” under her covers. There was no evidence. Gabriela’s secret was safe.
But now was not the time for hiding. Now it was time for the revelation of Gabriela's filthiest secret... she needed a powerful man to dominate and control her sexually.
Here under the bright lights of her own personal nightmare, she put a name on him. She put a face on him. The name was “Justin Bellefleur”. The face was lined and carved with years of grief and stoic determination. It was a sad face, but a strong one. The face of a man with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye. It was also the face of a man who would pause an important business meeting by raising a single finger in the air and answer a phone call from his daughter and only surviving child with a heartfelt “Hello my love, how are you today?”
Holding onto that vision, she blocked out the sound of the crowd, the glaring lights, and the ruthless and unforgiving bidding board counting down the step-by-step destruction of her freedom. Gabriela faced the lights, she faced the hidden crowd behind them, and with her entire soul, she cried out to the one Man that she truly believed in.
All her adult life, Gabriela knew that this was a possibility. All her adult life, she knew that she needed to prepare for this moment. And when it finally came... she did, too. Sliding her hand down her sweat-slicked stomach, she hit her outer core, she hit her inner core, and then... like so many times in the privacy of her dorm room... she hit her innermost core and erupted. Gabriela collapsed on the sands of the Big D auction house, spiraled her legs together, pointed them at the ceiling, and plunged into a mind-destroying screaming orgasm.
Cued by their experience filming thousands of prior orgasms, the Big D's professional videographers caught it all on HD video and picture frame... the nude, twerking slave girl with her hand between her thighs as she gently rolled backwards into the sands of the auction floor... the graceful pose of feminine perfection as she impacted with the sands... and the erotic fountain of glistening droplets erupting from between her entwined thighs.
He was coming for her. She had seen cold and implacable fury behind his eyes when he saw her being led out of the front doors of Bellefleur Financial by the slave catchers, naked and terrified. She knew that the anger wasn’t directed at her. She knew that icy rage was directed and whoever was behind her enslavement. He would save her… her burning slave heat exploded as she writhed upon the sand. “Master, save me! Where are you?” she cried out plaintively as the orgasm exploded through her body and the arc of glittering fluids erupted through her slender fingers, soaking the Big D’s uncaring sands.
That was it. Gabriela had blown her last shot. Panting and sweating, she gave up on the churned sand in the middle of the auction arena. She was a spent force and had no more fucks to give at this point. Her boneless thighs gave way and her legs splayed out shamelessly on either side. Modesty was beyond her comprehension at this point.
Sand is dirty, sand is dusty, the dusty sands of the Big D auction house are plowed by the feet of hundreds of desperate horny women every day of the year. If Gabriela had been able to see herself, she would have seen a picture her widespread thighs framing a glistening pink pussy dripping with slave heat and the aftermath of an incredible “slave-gasm”. On either side of her open folds was a brown stain from the dust sticking to the juices leaking from her aroused pussy and coating her thighs as she waited in the chute. It was known as the “Big D Dusterfly”.
Gabriela didn’t care about that because her True Master was Justin Bellefleur. She had been struck by his presence the day she first met him at a Career Day at Texas A&M her junior year. His perfectly coiffed silver-blonde hair, his gentlemanly demeanor, and the friendly twinkle in his grey eyes drew her in. At the time, she had begun to fear the career choice she had made. Slavers had a reputation for callous misogyny and the more she explored the options in her chosen career path, the more she had begun to worry. Several of her interviews had gone poorly, the men she met with were clearly only evaluating her as potential property and not an employee. But this man was special. He had talked to her and treated her like an actual person, not an object to place in inventory. He had taken her to dinner and set her at ease. She accepted a summer internship with his firm and had finished her three months at Bellefleur Financial deeply in love with him. She knew it could never happen. The age difference was too great. He had a daughter the same age as she. It was impossible… and yet she was irrevocably drawn to him.
And now he would buy her. The one slaver that treated her like a person with human potential would soon become her owner. The bidding exploded again at her brazen display of unbridled sexuality, but it was dying down for real now, the increments were becoming smaller as the skilled auctioneer eked the very last bits of profit from Gabriela’s destruction. G422 was staying strong, though. Gabriela hoped and prayed that G422 was Justin Bellefleur’s icon. The alternative was too terrifying to contemplate.
“All right then,” the auctioneer chanted into his microphone as he raised his gavel, “two HUNDRED and twenty SEVEN thousand dollars going once, going twice…”
The crowd had finally quieted down. The gyrating slave had fallen to the sands. The auction was coming to an end. Gabriela’s life as a vibrant young professional with a bright future was coming to an end… “Bing!”
The auctioneer paused, gavel raised high. He squinted at the screen imbedded in his podium. Then he turned and looked at the big screen behind him, as though it might tell him something different. A new bidder’s icon had appeared, one who had remained hidden until now.
Bidder B9 had appeared at the top of the pile. And he hadn’t just topped the pile, he had crushed them all. Gabriela’s term of enslavement had suddenly dropped to 5.2 years in one fell swoop. The auctioneer swiftly spun back around to face the audience. He knew a power move when he saw one. “RIGHT! Three HUNDRED and FORTY thousand dollars going once, going twice, a-a-a-nd… SOLD!”
The fateful hammer came down with a sharp crack. Gabriela had been sold. It was done.
Suddenly energized, she sat up and stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the icon of the man who had bought her. What kind of crazy low number was B9? It had to have been one of the first slave broker licenses sold in North Texas! It even had a little gold crown over it, indicating that it was the personal license of someone buying for their own account.
A pair of slave wranglers pulled her to her feet and led her away. It made sense to her now. Bidder G422 had been a cat’s paw all along, teasing the price upward without overdoing it. Then, in an extravagant display of power and wealth, Justin Bellefleur sent a message. Every professional slaver in the room who was not a drooling idiot received that message loud and clear, “This one is MINE.”
The Big D doesn’t allow just anyone to bid on its merchandise. The average person or corporation seeking to buy a slave would need to work through a licensed bidder. But there were some people who had special privileges. It didn’t shock Gabriela at all that Justin Bellefleur was one of them. Because of course he was.
As she was led stumbling and barefoot through the back passages of the Big D Auction house, Gabriela was still assuming that her former boss was now her new owner. She had worked closely with him for months now and she just couldn’t see it any other way. The man didn’t leave anything to chance. It was impossible that he would allow an enemy the opportunity to buy one of his own employees.
The average slaver is much like a shark, except with more teeth and less conscience. Within days of buying her, they would have had all of the secrets of Justin Bellefleur that Gabriela had ever had access to. As a helpless slave under their complete control, Gabriela would have been able to hold nothing back. And once they had wrung her dry, she would have been disposed of. Gabriela shuddered at the thought… “disposed of” could have so many meanings. The possibilities were endless and some of them were quite horrific.
On the other hand, Justin had to be furious with her right now. Gabriela had lied about the lien on her body. She was required to disclose it, but she didn’t. She deserved his anger. She had earned it. At the time, she justified the lie by reasoning that she was not the primary collateral. She wasn’t even the secondary collateral. She was the third-tier collateral. The only way that her body could be sold was if her relatives’ tire shop failed, the assets weren’t enough to cover the debt, and the insurance company didn’t pay. Her protection was ironclad… until it wasn’t.
Instead of paying down the debt on their very successful tire shop, her brother and uncle had invested the profits in a meth lab. Which had exploded and destroyed the business. It had also destroyed the value of the real estate and voided the insurance contract on it… leaving Gabriela’s body as the sole remaining collateral to be seized. She HAD been seized and now she had been sold. Hopefully to her former boss. Or maybe not. She had lied to him, he was certainly angry with her, and now she might be his slave for the next five years. Or the slave of someone else, but she just couldn’t imagine Justin allowing that to happen. She still had no idea what was really going on.
Her scattered thoughts followed her as she mechanically obeyed the commands and shoves of the slave handlers as they moved her around. First she was showered, then scrubbed, then taken to back to the beauty salon. Realizing that this was not normal, she looked around for a clue.
“Umm,” she asked, “wasn’t I just here? Haven’t I already been sold?”
The slave wrangler’s response to unauthorized talking was swift. Gabriela found herself shoved up against the nearest wall, knocking aside a pair of handcuffed teenagers waiting their turn. She found herself looking into a very, very cold pair of eyes as her head was painfully tilted back. During her frequent visits to the auction house, Gabriela had learned that some slave handlers were just regular folks who wanted to do their jobs with a minimum of fuss and drama and then go home. But, as with every authority figure ever invented, there was also a second type. They reveled in their power and took every opportunity to exercise that power. This was clearly the second kind of slave wrangler.
“Listen to me, you stupid little slit,” he hissed menacingly with his face inches from her own. The opportunity to slam her up against the wall must have excited him, because he was breathing heavily, his foul-smelling breath washing over her face. He was also smiling, and Gabbie could see that he was enjoying the ability to manhandle an attractive young woman and get away with it. “You’re not a free woman anymore, strutting up and down these halls wearing those tight skirts and treating us like we’re beneath you. You’re a naked slave now, and slaves don’t get to ask any FUCKING questions!”
He sneered as he continued, “Yeah, I know exactly who you used to be, little miss oh-so-important. Not so important any more are ya? Just another two-legged FUCK hole that needs to learn her place.”
Gabriela could feel the sharp horns of his taser being shoved into her ribcage, grinding painfully against the bones beneath her skin. It wasn’t the only hard object making its presence known. Lower down, she could feel his erection pressing into her hip as he pinned her up against the wall. She had never been so terrified in her life.
She had been to the Big D many times over the past few months, and the previous summer as well. As a new hire, before that as an intern, and even before that as a student. Mr. Bellefleur had frequently given her the task of traveling to the Big D to check on his property being processed or to deliver paperwork. She was also quite familiar with the more industrial environment of the big HCI Cattle Market in Fort Worth. In both places, she had frequently encountered men like this who didn’t consider her fully human, just future slave meat that hadn’t been seized and processed yet.
Now, viewing it from her new perspective at the very bottom of the social ladder, she realized that he was right. She had responded to the stares and leers she received by… strutting. Just like he said. She put on a show of confidence that was 90% false bravado and 10% pride in her status as a free woman among slaves. If a man had done it, nobody would have even noticed. But when a woman strides down a hallway with confidence, especially one of THESE hallways, she’s instantly labelled a stuck-up bitch who thinks too much of herself. With a sinking feeling in her heart, she knew that, no matter how vile he was, this man was completely correct. She HAD strutted through the halls while trying desperately to be thought of as someone better than her surroundings. Those “surroundings” had included this slave handler. He had taken notice. And now she was entirely at his mercy, an emotion that she could see that he completely lacked.
She needed a new strategy and she needed it now. Casting her eyes downward submissively, she said meekly, “This slave was wrong to act that way, Master. Please let her make it up to you by sucking your huge cock.”
The man smirked and backed away from the wall to give the handcuffed slave room to slide down onto her knees as he fished out his erection. “That’s right,” he said cruelly, “how easily they fall to their knees when they lose their fancy-ass clothing. Just proves what I always say,” he grunted in satisfaction as he thrust his already-hard penis between the kneeling girl’s lips, “…they’re all whores on the inside, and they need a real man to put ‘em in their place. Well, you found your place in the natcheral order of things, slut. On your knees with a real man’s cock in your stupid pie hole. Mmm, that’s good. I always knew you were a natcheral-born cocksucker. You just needed the right motivation to prove it.”
On her knees, she took the hard member in her mouth and was gratified to discover that the man’s hygiene was a lot better than his bad breath had indicated. Gabriela desperately tried to put her inexperienced tongue to work on the penis in her mouth while ignoring his self-congratulatory gloating and the presence of other slaves and slave wranglers watching her voluntarily debase herself. Unlike some free women, she didn’t have an aversion to sucking cock. She had done it for a couple of her college boyfriends. But she noticed that if she did, their attitudes toward her changed. They started seeing her less as a peer, and more as a sex object. It was one of the many effects of legalized slavery. “Cock sucking is a slave whore’s job” was a common perception of both men and women. As a result, free women refused to do it. And, as Gabriela had learned through bitter experience, free women who DID do it lost the respect of the men they serviced. Instead of being grateful, they became scornful and dismissive. After her second bad experience, Gabriela had joined the “never again club”. That was three years ago. Now she was desperately trying to remember how to do it right.
“But that was then and this is now,” she thought as she justified her actions. “I needed to avoid a painful shock and this is the best way to do that. Since I am a slave girl, cock sucking is expected of me now.”
So focused was she that she failed to notice Cici, a supervisor that she knew from her previous life as a human being, walk into the room, take a quick look around, and walk back out into the hall. Then, moments later, she came back in. “Gus!” she called out, “Is that 5993?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So we need her in the smithy pronto. Get off her so I can get her cleaned up. There’s a VIP down there chatting with Mr. Henry and he wants his slave right now.” She turned to the clinicians as Gus reluctantly released Gabriela. Slave handlers usually wouldn’t interrupt another handler from getting a slave tip – it was one of the perks of the job – but apparently the name “Mr. Henry” had worked its magic. Jake Henry was the founder and general manager of the Big D Auction House. Gus may have been fantasizing about this specific blowjob for months, but he wasn’t going to finish it in Gabriela’s mouth.
Cici guided Gabriela over to a now-vacated seat and the clinicians got started. They cleaned her face and set to work with foundation, mascara, and lipstick. The two young women that Gus had pushed aside earlier were wearing pink grading collars and he simply shoved one of them to her knees with a squawk and then shoved his unsatisfied stiffy into her mouth without a word while giving Gabriela and Cici the evil eye.
It had been Gabbie’s previous experience that temporary slaves wearing grading collars – especially the younger ones – were more-or-less off-limits to the staff. Apparently, that rule was a little bit more flexible than she realized, she thought as she watched the man ravage the 18-yr-old’s unwilling throat. The other girl looked on in sympathy and revulsion, but did nothing. She was obviously scared stiff and there wasn’t really anything that she could do, anyway. Even though women being slave-graded were not technically slaves, they WERE under slave discipline, and could be punished as slaves while that was true.
In the past, Gabriela had seen similar sights but had looked away with her eyes and her heart. She told herself that wasn’t Gabriela on her knees in a slave auction house. She told herself it was never going to be Gabriela on her knees in a slave auction house. And yet here she was, a naked, collared and cuffed slave. Livestock sold on the block… at the slave auction house.
Gabriela tried to look away from the distressing sight of the young girl being forced to service the cruel slave wrangler in her place. Even though she was utterly powerless to influence events, she felt a stab of guilt watching the scene.
“Stop squirming!” snapped the make up girl as she forced Gabriela to look straight ahead at the tableaux in front of her.
Cici was standing over Gabriela with her arms folded. She turned and glanced at Gus and his new victim. “Hurry up Gus,” she said in a bored tone, “then go find Harry, he needs something. Dunno what he wants.”
The nude makeup artist shifted positions so that Gabriela’s view was thankfully cut off as Gus grunted his way through his orgasm, snarled something at the girl, and walked out. Gabriela was glad that he was gone and hoped to never see him again… fingers crossed.
Cici hauled Gabriela bodily out of the chair and led her toward the door. The two teenagers in grading collars were standing next to it. Both looked like they were about to start bawling. The face and chest of the one on the right was smeared with what appeared to be semen.
Cici paused, made forceful eye contact with the other slave wranglers in the room, and turned to the makeup girls.
“Minh!”
“Yes, boss!”
“Get this one next, she’s been contaminated. Hop to it.”
“Yes, boss!”
Gabriela was then guided out the door. Mentally, she wished the two younger women luck. Slave grading was a traumatic and important life step for them, and she hoped that the experience hadn’t been ruined by a horny and brutal slave wrangler.
Gabriela’s guide Cici was a middle aged Black woman about 20 years her elder. She strode along easily next to Gabbie with her hand on her butt. She slipped her index finger into Gabriela’s crack without actually penetrating her sphincter. Several previous handlers had done so today, and she was grateful for the forbearance.
“It’s a little different on the other side, isn’t it, honey?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Word is that original gangster Justin Bellefleur just bought his first sex slave… that being you, honey. There’s a lot more going on here than most people know. There was a real commotion in the C-suite when Mr. Bellefleur's two-digit icon appeared on the auction board. Nobody even knew he was in the house. Stay strong, do what he says, and come out on the other side smiling, you got that?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good girl. Just for the record, I never hated you. Lotsa people here did, but I didn’t. Woman’s gotta make her own way in the world somehow and ‘hotshot slaver’ is one of ‘em. On the other hand, everyone has a downfall in life. Live through it, live with it, make it your own. Here we are, good luck.”
The smithy had its own dedicated venting system. Powerful fans sucked the air through vents in the ceiling. As Gabriela was led through the doorway, she felt the air currents on her nude body as they sucked air into the room from the hallway. She had noticed this a few times before as her hair fluttered while passing through this door. But today she wasn’t wearing a skirt suit. With her entire body exposed, it created an entirely different sensation. She shivered... and then the smell hit her.
Gabriela had been in this room several times. Not “many”, but “several”. Occasionally, the firm sold slaves to buyers in other states. They purchased their new slaves remotely, and wanted their new property to receive the full Big D experience before being shipped to them. That meant branding. Someone from Bellefleur Financial needed to physically inspect the new brands in order to ensure that it had been done properly. That somebody was usually Gabriela, the low woman on the totem pole.
As a result, Gabriela was ready for this, or she thought she was. She had been here before. She had smelled the combined scent of burning charcoal and burning flesh. She had graded Prime. She understood from the beginning that she was going to be branded with the “Big D” corporate logo burnt into her flesh as soon as she was sold.
She did her best to ensure that she was as mentally prepared as she could be, but it wasn't good enough.
As soon as she walked in the door, the smell hit her and her body recoiled. This was HER flesh they were going to burn! Her mind was ready, her heart was resigned, but her body had NO INTEREST in being burnt. She bolted… and slammed directly into the open arms of the slave handler who brought her here.
“Whoa there, honey, whoa there! I gotchu, you're not goin’ anywhere. Hold on there, I gotchu, c’mon honey, lemme hold you.”
Cici, who had been doing this for many years now, caught the bolting slave in a wide-gripped bear hug. Braced for impact in advance, she hardly shuddered as she stopped slave 5993 well before the skinny White girl could build up momentum. Then she dug her legs in and began to force the slave through the door.
Gasping in panic, Gabriela looked around for salvation. There! Justin Bellefleur was already in the smithy, talking to Mr. Henry and another man named Joseph Do. Justin really WAS bidder B9! He would save her, he had always been so kind to her, he would never let her be hurt.
Alerted by the commotion, Justin turned around and saw what was happening. I brief look of annoyance and disappointment crossed his face and he pointed an unlit cigar at the row of badging benches.
That look pierced Gabriela's heart. Not because he reaffirmed that she was to be branded, but because she could see that he was disappointed in her. She had embarrassed him. That was unacceptable to her. She could never willingly disappoint him. All resistance ceased, she reversed course, and walked willingly over to the empty branding bench. It was a padded steel frame covered in attachment points to hold slaves still as they were kissed by red hot iron. Gabriela managed one final glance over her shoulder as the slave handler laid her stomach firmly on the bench. Justin wasn't smiling and he wasn't angry, but she saw a sadness in his eyes for a moment before the disinterested mask of a professional slaver reasserted itself.
As with any position of authority, being a slaver requires a significant component of performance art. The slaver must always project an aura of unimpeachable authority, an image of invincibility. It was one of the things that drew Gabriela to him so strongly. Justin's masterful aura wasn't an act, he really was that person. At the same time, because he wasn't acting, he also had the ability to care deeply for the people whose wellbeing was responsibility. Gabriela had seen the compassion for the less fortunate hidden inside his armored shell and knew that there was a beating heart in there. A lonely one. Justin's enemies would never believe its existence, but it was there.
Gabbie realized now that Justin had to put on his "cruel slaver" act for the crowd of onlookers. He had an image to maintain. His firm had a major security breach and one of his employees had been enslaved. His image of invincibility had a hole in it right now, and he needed to patch that up. He was going to do that by burning a hole in Gabriela's ass while he watched, calmly smoking a cigar.
Cici draped Gabriela's willing body over the platform and began to bind her to it, making adjustments in order to ensure that she was too securely bound to harm herself when she started thrashing. Not "if" she started thrashing, "when" she started thrashing. All the while, she kept up a patter of encouraging, sympathetic talk as she forced the frightened girl toward her destiny with a white-hot branding iron. Once Cici was satisfied, Gabriela was so securely tied that she couldn't move a muscle. "There we go, honey, you just wait right there until we're ready for you. Don't go anywhere, now," Cici told her, chuckling at her own joke.
Gabriela experimentally shifted in her bonds a bit. Absolutely nothing moved. Her limbs and torso were completely locked in place, at the mercy of Merle, the smith. Only her head and neck were free to move. Gabriela had always been too squeamish to attend a branding herself, but she knew that freshly branded slaves often bucked from the pain and any attempt to restrain the head could result in injuries to the neck. So her head was free to move and she looked around.
In front of her was a camera pointed directly at her face. Apparently, "Badging Faces" was a popular insert in the Big D's The Sandyfoot magazine each month. Gabriela had never looked at that, either. She was afraid that she would see the face of someone that she had worked to enslave. Or even someone that she knew personally.
Plenty of girls had gone missing from campus over the course of her college career. Some people looked away, pretending that the missing girls had simply dropped out of school or transferred. Other students reveled in it and treated the topic as their favorite gossiping point.
Gabriela realized with a sinking feeling that the camera was going to capture her "badging face" for all the world to see. And those nosy campus gossips were going to see it and entertain themselves by gleefully chatting about her downfall. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now, this was her current place in life and the only possible trajectory was upward. So at least there was that small comfort.
Behind the camera was a plexiglass wall. The Big D auction house charged gawkers five dollars apiece to come in and view the proceedings. Some of them had even groped Gabriela while she was on display for public viewing. Now they were staring at her through the wall from a few feet away, eager to witness her branding. The excited looks on some of those faces churned her stomach. How could people be so vile that they actually enjoyed seeing pretty girls suffer? She looked away, trying to pretend they didn't exist. It was better that way. Instead, she decided to see who was sharing her ordeal today.
On her left was an extraordinarily slender-waisted, busty girl with dark hair wearing a pink grading collar. Even with her breasts squashed flat against the bench's surface, the handlers had to put an additional pad under her stomach so that her spine wasn't too severely arched when they strapped her down. Gabriela knew it was another necessary safety precaution. The Big D didn't want any of its inventory damaged before shipping out. It was exactly the sort of detail that Gabriela had routinely checked in her previous life as a free woman. No reputable merchant wanted to be known for delivering damaged merchandise.
In front of the prone girl were two other people. One of them, kneeling in front of her in the place of the usual camera tripod was a videographer with a large professional camera. He seemed to be setting up his shots and checking the lighting. The other man appeared to be someone from the Bid D marketing department. Gabriela didn't know his name, but he looked familiar. He was leaning over the bound girl and giving her a pep talk. She was obviously extremely frightened and the marketing guy seemed to be trying to calm her down so she wouldn't ruin the take. "All right, Bethany, this is your big finale," he said in a soothing voice "After this, you're all done. We do the big reveal and that's the end of it. It's almost over now. This is the second to last thing you'll do here and then we'll send you off. Try to be brave, honey. Remember, it's for the sea turtles."
"After this you'll let me go?" the frightened young woman asked plaintively.
The marketing guy turned his face away from her and smirked at the camera, then gave it a sly wink. "You know I can't tell you that, honey. The voting is still live, but we have to do the big reveal after we're done here. That was the deal. You know I can't tell you anything before then. Don't worry, though, I'm sure everything will be all right. Your followers will never let you down. And after today, you'll have so many new followers. Your subscriber numbers have gone through the roof during the last few hours. It's been really impressive to see the figures climb. You’re going viral right now as we speak. I’m sure that #savebethany is rocketing upward at this very moment. I guarantee you'll have far more followers than you've ever had. I know it's been tough on you, but you're doing it for the sea turtles."
It finally clicked in her head, that's where Gabriela knew him from. She met him at a networking event that Mr. Bellefleur took her to. He was one of the new "social media initiative" agents. Their job was to promote the Big D's business interests in the ever-shifting world of social media. This looked a lot like an influencer who had been lured into... a trap? A challenge? Something about sea turtles, maybe a charity event?
A bustle of bodies on her right distracted Gabriela from the apprehensive influencer. A pair of similar-looking curvy blondes wearing grading collars were being draped over the two unoccupied branding benches. That left Gabbie as the only true slave on the four branding benches. One woman was older than the second, perhaps her mother? She flopped down onto her bench and wiggled her round bottom in satisfaction, clearly relishing the attention. The other, younger woman, struggled for a bit as she was bent over her bench. She clearly wasn't expecting to be branded during her grading. The Big D's policy was to always brand Prime and Choice graded slaves sold on the premises. Women who were only being graded had the option of getting a brand, but it cost extra. It wasn't hard for Gabriela to figure out what happened. The older woman had signed the two of them up for a mother-daughter slave grading with the deluxe package that included a branding for those that qualified. Even though slavery had only been legal again for a few years, society's attitudes were rapidly changing. A "Big D Prime" brand was considered by many women to be a source of pride. It was easy to see why. Only the hottest 10% of graded women were graded Prime.
The Big D's primary source of revenue was of course the sale of human chattel. But slave grading was its other major income stream. In an effort to increase grading revenue, mother-daughter paired grading had been introduced. The two women were graded as one, so an older woman with an extremely attractive daughter could get a higher grade by participating. This mother was clearly very pleased to receive her brand, while the teenage daughter was not interested at all and was squirming vigorously.
"Too bad," Gabriela thought, "once you're in the system, once you're under their control. They'll do as they please and you have no say in the matter."
Just like herself, she thought glumly. She had had all of her life choices stripped away along with her clothes earlier today. At least she had been rescued... maybe. Probably? Hopefully, Justin would protect her in some way. She had very little hope that he might release her immediately. A professional slaver who did something like that for a mere employee would take an immediate and disastrous hit to his reputation. Doing it for a family member was understandable, even expected. But a mere employee? It would require special circumstances. Was Gabriela special enough to Justin to merit that? She didn’t know. She knew he loved her, but… but she didn’t know. Nothing to be done about it now.
Justin needed to save face, especially after Gabbie's public enslavement at his place of business. He was going to have to be hard on her in order to protect himself and everyone else who worked at Bellefleur Financial. Gabriela was being sacrificed for the greater good. She turned worried eyes back to the influencer girl next to her. Apparently, Gabriela wasn't the only sacrifice today, poor thing. Whatever game the Big D marketing department was playing, she hoped it ended well for Bethany.
Gabriela knew that she would most likely serve most or all of her indenture. She just hoped that Justin would protect her by not selling her to someone awful. She shuddered at the thought. As a professional slaver, albeit one with very limited experience, Gabriela knew that slavery encompassed a whole field of horrors. On the other hand, Justin might decide to keep her as his personal sex toy. In contrast to the fearful thoughts before, that image gave Gabriela an erotic thrill. ANY woman under Justin Bellefleur's power and protection would feel the same. Gabbie was certain of it. Who wouldn't feel that way?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
First Meeting
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It was no accident that Gabriela masturbated to visions of Justin Bellefleur during her block routine. She had been immediately impressed with him when they first met him only a year and a half ago at the college career fair, He was tall, well-dressed, and very gentlemanly. Based on his reactions, he was very pleased with her as well.
The day had been very long and frustrating. She was wearing her brand-new interview outfit - red pencil skirt with matching jacket, cream silk blouse, red leather pumps, stockings and faux pearls. She knew she needed to present a striking appearance if she was going to compete with her male classmates. Her female professors had impressed upon her that a professional woman needed to look her best in order to be her best.
The field of Slavery Studies was heavily male for a number of reasons, and her job search was an uphill swim. She was determined to make it, though. At this point, she really had no other choice. She was committed. Given her current student debt load, she absolutely needed to put her degree to work and get a high-paying job in her chosen field. Failure was not an option. The percentage of female Slavery Studies majors who did NOT become slaves was... frighteningly low, and heavily weighted toward the lower slave grades. Gabriela had provisionally graded at "Prime Minus" three years earlier, so that was yet another mark against her.
That morning, Gabriela had risen at 5:30 AM to get ready. Everything had to be perfect. Hair, make up, outfit, it all had to be flawless. She needed to make the right impression. Today was too important to her future. "Failure is not an option!" she told herself in the mirror before she left. "Will power and a can-do attitude moves mountains!"
She arrived an hour early for her 8:00 appointment with her annotated folders of company profiles ready for action. The morning hadn't gone well. Corporate recruiters' eyes had simply slid over her before fixing onto one of her male classmates. The eyes that did NOT merely slide over her just stripped her naked, assigned her a sales price and then moved on. She could practically feel their thoughts tickling over her body like cockroaches. It was frustrating. She was smart, she was hard-working, she was at or near the head of her class in everything she did... but none of it seemed to count because she didn't have a penis.
At lunchtime, she regrouped. The cost of her interview suit had wrecked her budget for the remainder of the school year, so she bought a light snack in the campus food court while she pored over her notes. The morning schedule had mostly been big banks and financial resources firms. They hired junior analysts by the bus load. Obviously, Gabbie reasoned, they were looking for cookie-cutter fits for their corporate cultures. The afternoon would be different, though. It was a more heterogenous mix - a variety of wholesale organizations that dealt in physical bodies and a scattering of smaller, boutique slavery firms. These jobs might not pay as much as Big Corporate, but they came with health insurance and a sufficient salary to pay down her student loans if she budgeted carefully.
Gabriele gathered her things, took a deep breath, and headed out. This time it was going to work!
It hadn't. At 3:45 in the afternoon, she was looking at yet another empty booth. The convention hall was emptying rapidly. She was sifting through dregs now. There had to be some gold here. At least this booth still had a few brochures and a stack of business cards left behind. She put her now-much-heavier bag down and started checking the brochures for names and phone numbers. "Bellefleur Financial," she read aloud. Whoever these guys were, they had apparently found what they wanted and gone home. Nevertheless, it was still possible that arrangements might fall through. A determined woman showing up at the right time and place could seize an unexpected opportunity and...
"Huh, looks like I'm too late." spoke a bemused masculine voice behind her.
Startled out of her glum reverie, Gabriela spun about and... looked up. This man was very tall, 6'3" at least. In her by-now-painful pumps, Gabriela was 5'10" tall. He was dressed in a very sharp suit that was slightly disheveled. Gabriela understood that at this hour of the day it was impossible to look one's best, but someone needed to be taking better care of this man. His suit and shoes were expensive but hadn't been carefully maintained and required updating, the shoes especially.
Nevertheless, he seemed important, and she immediately thrust out her hand and gave him her best smile. It was a tired smile, but it was the absolute best she had at this moment. "Hi!" she greeted him cheerily, "I'm Gabriela Chavez and I'm looking for work!"
"I see," he said, chuckling drily while taking her proffered hand and making a show of staring about the empty booth in confusion, "have you seen my HR manager? She seems to have gone missing."
Gabriela glanced down at the assorted business cards in her other hand. This was clearly an important man and he wanted something. If Gabbie had the answer, he would be grateful! She pulled up one of the business cards she collected and asked brightly, “Mary Winters?”
“That's her,” he answered with a smile, “have you seen her?”
“No sir, I have not,” she told him honestly. “I was just about to call her and leave a message.”
“Hmm...” he frowned and started scrolling through his phone. “Well, that's not good. Give me a moment, will you? There's a chair right over there.”
Gabriela turned and, spotting the indicated chair, quickly smoothed her skirt and sat down. She still wasn't sure who she was talking to, but he seemed nice, and he had that indefinable air of command. He was clearly someone who expected to be obeyed and she did so without thinking. It felt good. Finally, someone was in charge around here.
“Hello Mary, is everything all right?... No, no, I'm at the job fair. I didn't get your email until just now. No, that's fine, one second.”
He turned to Gabriela and pointed at her binder. “Resume.”
Gabbie had paid extra at the campus printing shop to have twenty resumes printed on expensive cloth paper. She also had another 40 printed on regular printer paper just in case she needed them. After an entire day of at the job fair, she still had 18 of the expensive versions left. She swiftly placed one in his hand. He glanced at it, reading quickly. Somehow, she knew that this quick review contained more interest and comprehension than she had received all day.
“Yeah,” he said, “I just interviewed a great candidate, and she looks good on paper. Yes, ‘she’, is that a problem? Fine, see you tomorrow. Give Jobie kisses for me and I hope he feels better soon.”
Gabriela waited while he scrolled through a few more messages on his phone before turning it off and slipping it into his breast pocket. He looked up at her. He was practically the first man to bother to look her in the eyes all day. “So,” he began, “what did you have for lunch?”
“Oh, umm...” she was a bit nonplussed at the unexpected question and began to gather her things to give herself time to collect her thoughts. He was so considerate and courtly! “I had tater-tots.”
“Really?” he asked. “Did they charge you for ten tots, and then toss five tots and a pile of greasy potato fragments at you?”
She scowled up at him. “Most certainly not! I received SIX entire tots and a pile of assorted half-tots, thank you very much! They were delicious.”
He threw back his head and laughed, obviously delighted by her quick and clever response. “All right,” he said, still grinning. Gabbie loved the way his previously stern visage lit up. She felt a sudden urge to make it happen again. “All right then, I missed lunch myself, too much rushing around today,” he continued. “Suppose we...” he waved her resume at her, “...continue this interview somewhere else. Someplace with food. I'm famished and expect that you are, too.”
Gabriela reached for her purse. She might have enough cash if she ordered something inexpensive. She didn’t dare own a credit card. Or maybe they could go to that place with unlimited bread sticks and she could...
He noticed her furtive fumbling and cut it off right quick. “My treat, it's a business lunch. We need to continue your interview and I don't want to do it hungry.”
“Oh, umm,” she quickly re-stowed her things and looked up. He was standing over her holding out an elbow like a fine gentleman in a play.
Although her heart leaped upward at the sight, Gabbie frowned at him instead. “I do not believe we have been introduced,” she said in her most ladylike tone of voice. She was trying hard not to be coquettish, but some of it must have bled through. It was terribly embarrassing, but there was no help for it. He just had that aura.
“Justin Bellefleur,” he replied with a slight smile and a bow, “just like it says on the tin.”
Oh! Well then! His name was on the company banner, surely this was a man of influence! And he had already told "his" HR manager that she was hired. Having a late lunch with him seemed like a great idea to Gabbie right now. Plus, she was really hungry. Tater-tot fragments in ketchup soup really didn't make for a very appetizing meal. Nor was the dinner of instant noodles and diced bologna that she was expecting to dine on at her apartment tonight.
She gave him her very best smile again and hooked her arm into his, letting him help her out of the chair. Her smile was now far brighter and more hopeful than the strained "very best" smile that she had given him a few minutes ago. Things were looking up!
"Hmm..." he spoke thoughtfully while carefully removing the heavy bag from her shoulder and placing it over his own. She hadn't asked him to, and he certainly hadn't requested permission, he simply acted as a matter of course. It was pure old-fashioned chivalry. "I suppose we'll have to go to Maria's Steakhouse. It's close and they have a superb variety."
They walked arm in arm toward the entrance hall. Justin seemed to know a lot of people and he smiled and nodded as he greeted them. Gabriela looked up at his face as he did so, though, and noticed that he was giving his fellow slavers an entirely different smile than the one he had directed at her. On the surface, it was entirely correct. But it never quite reached his eyes. She also noticed that they treated him with great deference and respect... and that deference seemed to extend to her now. No longer feeling like a brave mouse sneaking into a hawk convention, she felt quite safe on his arm.
Gabbie was pondering her sudden change in status as they approached the exhibition hall entrance, where he slipped her hand off his elbow so that he could open the door for her. She smiled up at him in gratitude and then there it was again - that genuine smile that made his previously-cold grey eyes twinkle a bit.
"We'll take my car," he informed her, "I'm in the parking garage. It's this way."
Gabriela’s Enslavement
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Author's note: I originally had no intention of writing this story. I had planned to keep it as a backstory, only revealed it brief discussions during someone else’s story. Gabriela is a recurring character in my "Stallion" stories. She is the mother of Gwen Bellefleur, who is the primary love interest of Hank/Hammer.
This story describes events 22 years before "Stallion - Arrival" and a few years after the Reinstitution of slavery. Criminal slavery has been around for a few years. Due to the inadequacies of criminal slavery (i.e., too few sexy young female slaves who were not tooth-rotted meth-heads), debt slavery and voluntary slavery have been added to the mix. But it's still the "Wild West" years of slavery and most of the institutions and controls of modern slavery have yet to be instituted. But the outline is there. We will follow it to the best of our ability.
Credits: Joe Doe for letting me use the Big D auction house and Jake Henry. Joe, if you have any objections to anything I wrote, please let me know and I'll change it.
Also, credit to Avvy, Eroticstoryspinner, Carl Bradford, and Mr. Smith for comments and edits. I started this project 10 days ago and this wouldn't have been possible without their help. Sometimes you have a fully formed project in your head and it just bursts out of you.
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Here And Now: I bring you a tale of star-crossed lovers!
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There she is, terrified and alone. She waits in darkness. Her life is in ruins. Her budding career in slavery finance is destroyed. She is on the hook for literally hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. The maximum indenture for debt is seven years and she is almost certain to serve all of it. She has provisionally been graded “Prime”, but that won’t matter if she can’t put on a dynamite block routine. If a girl doesn’t sell in the Prime range, she isn’t Prime.
She knows that. She accepts it. She is ready.
She is objectively beautiful. She knows that, too. She has had a target on her back since her early teens when the outline of her future maturity began falling into place. Every girl in the modern world knows that the prettier you are, the more people there are who want to seduce or enslave you. It’s a fact of modern life with slavery legal again. So she was careful. She was clever. She learned all the rules, she learned all the tricks, she even made enslaving people for debt her profession. And none of it saved her. It had happened anyway.
The door of the cattle chute opened. Her handler pushed her forward, and she rushed out into the sands of the auction arena. The bright lights blinded her… but that didn’t faze her, she knew it was coming. She didn't need to see them, she knew they were there. She herself had been in this exact crowd many times. The roiling crowd of onlookers and gawkers made their presence known by roaring their approval from the darkness beyond the halogen lights. Somewhere out there was a Man, somewhere out there was THE man, the Man who would buy her, the Man who would save her. He was out there. She had hope. She had confidence. He would find her, buy her, and she would be his. He would care for her, protect her, value her and perhaps even love her… but he would absolutely and unequivocally value her because she would be the best and she was going to cost him a LOT of money. She was worth it, and she knew it.
She skidded to a halt in the sand, transitioning gracefully into the “present” position. First impressions are important. Here and now, at this time and place, demeanor means everything. Some girls stumbled out of the chute sobbing and confused. Others came out terrified but determined.
Gabriela Chavez, currently known as “slave 5993”, came here to make a sale.
“MASTER!” she shouted. “Here I am! Buy me!”
Gabbie smiled her brightest cheerleader smile while she did so. It was a false smile, and the bidders knew it was a lie. But it was a lie they liked, so it was worth telling.
She struck a second pose, and then another, moving seamlessly between the lewd and demeaning positions of slave yoga, all with a level of gracefulness and poise rarely seen on the auction block.
“Here I am, Master, this is for you! I am tight, I am ready, I am willing!”
After each mantra, she shifted to the next outrageously revealing pose.
“Master!” she shouted, slapping her round bottom while displaying her ass, “fuck my asshole, it exists for your pleasure!”
The rabble and riff-raff roared their approval. As she spun and turned and whipped her hair at the crowd of unseen onlookers, she occasionally caught a glimpse of the bidding screen above the auctioneer, the auctioneer who was SELLING her - no time to think of that now – and she saw the same icon appear again and again. Every time someone bid, G422 topped them. Every time someone upped the ante, G422 struck again like a rattlesnake. Whoever G422 was, he was not to be denied. He would own her.
“Master!” she cried, “this is your pussy, I brought it here for you! It is yours!”
With each bid, the term of her slavery and the cost to Gabriela in suffering and lost youth ticked slowly upward, driven by the harsh calculus of net present value and financial derivatives. Gabriela had excelled in the math of computing the value of human lives. She understood exactly what was happening and why. The more a buyer paid for a slave, the more service he expected to receive. The algorithms were driven by uncaring mathematical analysis. The government actuaries who wrote these programs were technically human, but their souls were not.
“Master,” she pleaded, “my mouth is yours, use me as you will! I exist to serve you!”
The bidding ticked upward. The years of service ticked upward as well. The auction price approached the total debt that Gabriela's no-good relatives had put her on the hook for. Gabriela's term in bondage was approaching the magical 7-year mark. The debt would be paid in full and the banks would be satisfied. The seven-year limit on debt slavery was a holdover from pre-Reinstitution law when individuals were permitted to declare bankruptcy. And THAT in turn came directly from the Bible. Deuteronomy 15, to be precise. At that point, if the bidding continued, the years of service would begin to inch downward. Slowly.
The bank would still continue to reap the sole profit from the transaction, but Gabriela would be rewarded for overcompensating them with the quality of her collateral. "Collateral" meaning her naked body.
For every undeserved and unjust dollar that her enslavers extracted from her downfall, Gabbie would receive a small bit of freedom in return. She meant to regain as much of her life as possible. And if her enslavers profited thereby? Fuck 'em, the Lord knows they were trying to fuck HER.
At this point, having reached the "magic mile", the bidders were paying more money for less service. If Gabriela had been a Prime Plus slave, bought for millions of dollars, her term of service might have been driven down to three and a half years. But that wasn't likely to happen. She wasn't a famous model or actress; she was merely an extremely attractive young woman. The bidders' enthusiasm would wane rapidly now.
Gabriela couldn't let that happen. Gathering the remaining shreds of her ability to influence her future, she sprang into action. Already sweating under the harsh lighting, she pivoted away from the crowd, dipped into a deep crouch, tossed her hair over her right shoulder, and looked back over her left. Then she began to twerk.
"Look at this ass, Master! Don't you want to own it? How much do you want it? Because it wants YOU! This is YOUR new ass! Your new play toy! Come and get it now!"
The bidding started to pick up again. The buyers began to realize that this was no mere pretty face. This was not a common pleasure slut born with the right combination of physical traits; she was something else, something special. Wealthy men often bought pretty faces so that they could use them, abuse them, and then... after they grew bored... dispose of them. But this girl was special. She could keep a man entertained for months... years even, with the right incentives. She was spicy.
The bidding picked up again but then began to level off. Bidder G422 regained his dominating position but began to hesitate. He seemed to be growing bored of this competition. The Big D contained easier prey. Sensing weakness, the sharks gathered, and G422 lost ground.
Gabriela had two more tricks. Most girls abandoned slave yoga once they reached the magical age of 18 and submitted to their first slave grading. Most women never slave-graded again. Why bother? They had achieved the minimum legal requirements. Anything further was unnecessary effort and risk.
But not Gabriela. Her course of study made the risks clear to her. She wasn't about to show up on the sands of the Big D auction house carrying "freshman 40" pounds of unnecessary fat combined with years of stiffening ligaments. She practiced her yoga routine every night while her roommate was out. The narrow space between their dorm room bunks wasn't an obstacle, it was a challenge.
Gabriela pivoted into her second-to-last bold move... her penultimate attempt to attract the wealthy and powerful protector she needed. Slavery has many bad endings and few good ones. Gabriela was determined to be one of the lucky - and deserving - few.
Taking up the same semi-crouched pose as before, Gabriela began to twerk again. But this time she wasn't just bouncing her booty, she was bouncing her breasts. She had seen it once on an old black and white newsreel as a teen. The unnamed burlesque dancer had somehow managed to simultaneously twirl her breasts in opposite directions while dancing. Gabriela had eventually learned to do the same thing alone in her dorm room. In her mind, it was the raunchiest possible display of sexual availability.
“Master!” she screamed while giving the unseen crowd her most dazzling smile. She was excited to be here, she wanted to be here, and she needed her future Master to know that. “See me, know me, love me... these are your boobies that I am bouncing for you! Buy them and love them and know them as only you can! I am yours, Master, come and get me!”
Bidder G422 struck down yet another rival as the bidding pool narrowed. That was it, this was He, bidder G422 was the worthy one! He was the man who would own her; she could feel it. As she began to run out of block moves, she began to despair. She began to accept that her youth was over and that she would become the plaything of the mysterious G422. Her heart began to empty, her slave heat began to cool… Gabriela’s enthusiasm started to waver. She was losing momentum.
No! Not now and not ever! Gabriela would survive! She would make this unchosen fate her own!
She began the countdown to her final trick of the night. Her audience was male. Her potential buyers were men. It is and will always be the subtext of slavery. Masters are men, sex slaves are women. Variations exist, but they aren't important. They do not exist in sufficient numbers. Gabriela knew the numbers. She knew the odds, and she knew that they favored her. She needed the right Man, she needed the right Prince with the right price, and she needed him now. Right now, while her entire future teetered on disaster and destruction... she needed Him now, and she was going to call unto his power to save her.
The first time it happened, Gabriela was horribly embarrassed. She was terribly ashamed. She had spent the remainder of the evening furiously scrubbing away the evidence of her sexual crime with wet-wipes and Clorox bleach. When her roommate returned, she only smelled scented cleaning products and saw Gabriela “asleep” under her covers. There was no evidence. Gabriela’s secret was safe.
But now was not the time for hiding. Now it was time for the revelation of Gabriela's filthiest secret... she needed a powerful man to dominate and control her sexually.
Here under the bright lights of her own personal nightmare, she put a name on him. She put a face on him. The name was “Justin Bellefleur”. The face was lined and carved with years of grief and stoic determination. It was a sad face, but a strong one. The face of a man with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye. It was also the face of a man who would pause an important business meeting by raising a single finger in the air and answer a phone call from his daughter and only surviving child with a heartfelt “Hello my love, how are you today?”
Holding onto that vision, she blocked out the sound of the crowd, the glaring lights, and the ruthless and unforgiving bidding board counting down the step-by-step destruction of her freedom. Gabriela faced the lights, she faced the hidden crowd behind them, and with her entire soul, she cried out to the one Man that she truly believed in.
All her adult life, Gabriela knew that this was a possibility. All her adult life, she knew that she needed to prepare for this moment. And when it finally came... she did, too. Sliding her hand down her sweat-slicked stomach, she hit her outer core, she hit her inner core, and then... like so many times in the privacy of her dorm room... she hit her innermost core and erupted. Gabriela collapsed on the sands of the Big D auction house, spiraled her legs together, pointed them at the ceiling, and plunged into a mind-destroying screaming orgasm.
Cued by their experience filming thousands of prior orgasms, the Big D's professional videographers caught it all on HD video and picture frame... the nude, twerking slave girl with her hand between her thighs as she gently rolled backwards into the sands of the auction floor... the graceful pose of feminine perfection as she impacted with the sands... and the erotic fountain of glistening droplets erupting from between her entwined thighs.
He was coming for her. She had seen cold and implacable fury behind his eyes when he saw her being led out of the front doors of Bellefleur Financial by the slave catchers, naked and terrified. She knew that the anger wasn’t directed at her. She knew that icy rage was directed and whoever was behind her enslavement. He would save her… her burning slave heat exploded as she writhed upon the sand. “Master, save me! Where are you?” she cried out plaintively as the orgasm exploded through her body and the arc of glittering fluids erupted through her slender fingers, soaking the Big D’s uncaring sands.
That was it. Gabriela had blown her last shot. Panting and sweating, she gave up on the churned sand in the middle of the auction arena. She was a spent force and had no more fucks to give at this point. Her boneless thighs gave way and her legs splayed out shamelessly on either side. Modesty was beyond her comprehension at this point.
Sand is dirty, sand is dusty, the dusty sands of the Big D auction house are plowed by the feet of hundreds of desperate horny women every day of the year. If Gabriela had been able to see herself, she would have seen a picture her widespread thighs framing a glistening pink pussy dripping with slave heat and the aftermath of an incredible “slave-gasm”. On either side of her open folds was a brown stain from the dust sticking to the juices leaking from her aroused pussy and coating her thighs as she waited in the chute. It was known as the “Big D Dusterfly”.
Gabriela didn’t care about that because her True Master was Justin Bellefleur. She had been struck by his presence the day she first met him at a Career Day at Texas A&M her junior year. His perfectly coiffed silver-blonde hair, his gentlemanly demeanor, and the friendly twinkle in his grey eyes drew her in. At the time, she had begun to fear the career choice she had made. Slavers had a reputation for callous misogyny and the more she explored the options in her chosen career path, the more she had begun to worry. Several of her interviews had gone poorly, the men she met with were clearly only evaluating her as potential property and not an employee. But this man was special. He had talked to her and treated her like an actual person, not an object to place in inventory. He had taken her to dinner and set her at ease. She accepted a summer internship with his firm and had finished her three months at Bellefleur Financial deeply in love with him. She knew it could never happen. The age difference was too great. He had a daughter the same age as she. It was impossible… and yet she was irrevocably drawn to him.
And now he would buy her. The one slaver that treated her like a person with human potential would soon become her owner. The bidding exploded again at her brazen display of unbridled sexuality, but it was dying down for real now, the increments were becoming smaller as the skilled auctioneer eked the very last bits of profit from Gabriela’s destruction. G422 was staying strong, though. Gabriela hoped and prayed that G422 was Justin Bellefleur’s icon. The alternative was too terrifying to contemplate.
“All right then,” the auctioneer chanted into his microphone as he raised his gavel, “two HUNDRED and twenty SEVEN thousand dollars going once, going twice…”
The crowd had finally quieted down. The gyrating slave had fallen to the sands. The auction was coming to an end. Gabriela’s life as a vibrant young professional with a bright future was coming to an end… “Bing!”
The auctioneer paused, gavel raised high. He squinted at the screen imbedded in his podium. Then he turned and looked at the big screen behind him, as though it might tell him something different. A new bidder’s icon had appeared, one who had remained hidden until now.
Bidder B9 had appeared at the top of the pile. And he hadn’t just topped the pile, he had crushed them all. Gabriela’s term of enslavement had suddenly dropped to 5.2 years in one fell swoop. The auctioneer swiftly spun back around to face the audience. He knew a power move when he saw one. “RIGHT! Three HUNDRED and FORTY thousand dollars going once, going twice, a-a-a-nd… SOLD!”
The fateful hammer came down with a sharp crack. Gabriela had been sold. It was done.
Suddenly energized, she sat up and stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the icon of the man who had bought her. What kind of crazy low number was B9? It had to have been one of the first slave broker licenses sold in North Texas! It even had a little gold crown over it, indicating that it was the personal license of someone buying for their own account.
A pair of slave wranglers pulled her to her feet and led her away. It made sense to her now. Bidder G422 had been a cat’s paw all along, teasing the price upward without overdoing it. Then, in an extravagant display of power and wealth, Justin Bellefleur sent a message. Every professional slaver in the room who was not a drooling idiot received that message loud and clear, “This one is MINE.”
The Big D doesn’t allow just anyone to bid on its merchandise. The average person or corporation seeking to buy a slave would need to work through a licensed bidder. But there were some people who had special privileges. It didn’t shock Gabriela at all that Justin Bellefleur was one of them. Because of course he was.
As she was led stumbling and barefoot through the back passages of the Big D Auction house, Gabriela was still assuming that her former boss was now her new owner. She had worked closely with him for months now and she just couldn’t see it any other way. The man didn’t leave anything to chance. It was impossible that he would allow an enemy the opportunity to buy one of his own employees.
The average slaver is much like a shark, except with more teeth and less conscience. Within days of buying her, they would have had all of the secrets of Justin Bellefleur that Gabriela had ever had access to. As a helpless slave under their complete control, Gabriela would have been able to hold nothing back. And once they had wrung her dry, she would have been disposed of. Gabriela shuddered at the thought… “disposed of” could have so many meanings. The possibilities were endless and some of them were quite horrific.
On the other hand, Justin had to be furious with her right now. Gabriela had lied about the lien on her body. She was required to disclose it, but she didn’t. She deserved his anger. She had earned it. At the time, she justified the lie by reasoning that she was not the primary collateral. She wasn’t even the secondary collateral. She was the third-tier collateral. The only way that her body could be sold was if her relatives’ tire shop failed, the assets weren’t enough to cover the debt, and the insurance company didn’t pay. Her protection was ironclad… until it wasn’t.
Instead of paying down the debt on their very successful tire shop, her brother and uncle had invested the profits in a meth lab. Which had exploded and destroyed the business. It had also destroyed the value of the real estate and voided the insurance contract on it… leaving Gabriela’s body as the sole remaining collateral to be seized. She HAD been seized and now she had been sold. Hopefully to her former boss. Or maybe not. She had lied to him, he was certainly angry with her, and now she might be his slave for the next five years. Or the slave of someone else, but she just couldn’t imagine Justin allowing that to happen. She still had no idea what was really going on.
Her scattered thoughts followed her as she mechanically obeyed the commands and shoves of the slave handlers as they moved her around. First she was showered, then scrubbed, then taken to back to the beauty salon. Realizing that this was not normal, she looked around for a clue.
“Umm,” she asked, “wasn’t I just here? Haven’t I already been sold?”
The slave wrangler’s response to unauthorized talking was swift. Gabriela found herself shoved up against the nearest wall, knocking aside a pair of handcuffed teenagers waiting their turn. She found herself looking into a very, very cold pair of eyes as her head was painfully tilted back. During her frequent visits to the auction house, Gabriela had learned that some slave handlers were just regular folks who wanted to do their jobs with a minimum of fuss and drama and then go home. But, as with every authority figure ever invented, there was also a second type. They reveled in their power and took every opportunity to exercise that power. This was clearly the second kind of slave wrangler.
“Listen to me, you stupid little slit,” he hissed menacingly with his face inches from her own. The opportunity to slam her up against the wall must have excited him, because he was breathing heavily, his foul-smelling breath washing over her face. He was also smiling, and Gabbie could see that he was enjoying the ability to manhandle an attractive young woman and get away with it. “You’re not a free woman anymore, strutting up and down these halls wearing those tight skirts and treating us like we’re beneath you. You’re a naked slave now, and slaves don’t get to ask any FUCKING questions!”
He sneered as he continued, “Yeah, I know exactly who you used to be, little miss oh-so-important. Not so important any more are ya? Just another two-legged FUCK hole that needs to learn her place.”
Gabriela could feel the sharp horns of his taser being shoved into her ribcage, grinding painfully against the bones beneath her skin. It wasn’t the only hard object making its presence known. Lower down, she could feel his erection pressing into her hip as he pinned her up against the wall. She had never been so terrified in her life.
She had been to the Big D many times over the past few months, and the previous summer as well. As a new hire, before that as an intern, and even before that as a student. Mr. Bellefleur had frequently given her the task of traveling to the Big D to check on his property being processed or to deliver paperwork. She was also quite familiar with the more industrial environment of the big HCI Cattle Market in Fort Worth. In both places, she had frequently encountered men like this who didn’t consider her fully human, just future slave meat that hadn’t been seized and processed yet.
Now, viewing it from her new perspective at the very bottom of the social ladder, she realized that he was right. She had responded to the stares and leers she received by… strutting. Just like he said. She put on a show of confidence that was 90% false bravado and 10% pride in her status as a free woman among slaves. If a man had done it, nobody would have even noticed. But when a woman strides down a hallway with confidence, especially one of THESE hallways, she’s instantly labelled a stuck-up bitch who thinks too much of herself. With a sinking feeling in her heart, she knew that, no matter how vile he was, this man was completely correct. She HAD strutted through the halls while trying desperately to be thought of as someone better than her surroundings. Those “surroundings” had included this slave handler. He had taken notice. And now she was entirely at his mercy, an emotion that she could see that he completely lacked.
She needed a new strategy and she needed it now. Casting her eyes downward submissively, she said meekly, “This slave was wrong to act that way, Master. Please let her make it up to you by sucking your huge cock.”
The man smirked and backed away from the wall to give the handcuffed slave room to slide down onto her knees as he fished out his erection. “That’s right,” he said cruelly, “how easily they fall to their knees when they lose their fancy-ass clothing. Just proves what I always say,” he grunted in satisfaction as he thrust his already-hard penis between the kneeling girl’s lips, “…they’re all whores on the inside, and they need a real man to put ‘em in their place. Well, you found your place in the natcheral order of things, slut. On your knees with a real man’s cock in your stupid pie hole. Mmm, that’s good. I always knew you were a natcheral-born cocksucker. You just needed the right motivation to prove it.”
On her knees, she took the hard member in her mouth and was gratified to discover that the man’s hygiene was a lot better than his bad breath had indicated. Gabriela desperately tried to put her inexperienced tongue to work on the penis in her mouth while ignoring his self-congratulatory gloating and the presence of other slaves and slave wranglers watching her voluntarily debase herself. Unlike some free women, she didn’t have an aversion to sucking cock. She had done it for a couple of her college boyfriends. But she noticed that if she did, their attitudes toward her changed. They started seeing her less as a peer, and more as a sex object. It was one of the many effects of legalized slavery. “Cock sucking is a slave whore’s job” was a common perception of both men and women. As a result, free women refused to do it. And, as Gabriela had learned through bitter experience, free women who DID do it lost the respect of the men they serviced. Instead of being grateful, they became scornful and dismissive. After her second bad experience, Gabriela had joined the “never again club”. That was three years ago. Now she was desperately trying to remember how to do it right.
“But that was then and this is now,” she thought as she justified her actions. “I needed to avoid a painful shock and this is the best way to do that. Since I am a slave girl, cock sucking is expected of me now.”
So focused was she that she failed to notice Cici, a supervisor that she knew from her previous life as a human being, walk into the room, take a quick look around, and walk back out into the hall. Then, moments later, she came back in. “Gus!” she called out, “Is that 5993?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So we need her in the smithy pronto. Get off her so I can get her cleaned up. There’s a VIP down there chatting with Mr. Henry and he wants his slave right now.” She turned to the clinicians as Gus reluctantly released Gabriela. Slave handlers usually wouldn’t interrupt another handler from getting a slave tip – it was one of the perks of the job – but apparently the name “Mr. Henry” had worked its magic. Jake Henry was the founder and general manager of the Big D Auction House. Gus may have been fantasizing about this specific blowjob for months, but he wasn’t going to finish it in Gabriela’s mouth.
Cici guided Gabriela over to a now-vacated seat and the clinicians got started. They cleaned her face and set to work with foundation, mascara, and lipstick. The two young women that Gus had pushed aside earlier were wearing pink grading collars and he simply shoved one of them to her knees with a squawk and then shoved his unsatisfied stiffy into her mouth without a word while giving Gabriela and Cici the evil eye.
It had been Gabbie’s previous experience that temporary slaves wearing grading collars – especially the younger ones – were more-or-less off-limits to the staff. Apparently, that rule was a little bit more flexible than she realized, she thought as she watched the man ravage the 18-yr-old’s unwilling throat. The other girl looked on in sympathy and revulsion, but did nothing. She was obviously scared stiff and there wasn’t really anything that she could do, anyway. Even though women being slave-graded were not technically slaves, they WERE under slave discipline, and could be punished as slaves while that was true.
In the past, Gabriela had seen similar sights but had looked away with her eyes and her heart. She told herself that wasn’t Gabriela on her knees in a slave auction house. She told herself it was never going to be Gabriela on her knees in a slave auction house. And yet here she was, a naked, collared and cuffed slave. Livestock sold on the block… at the slave auction house.
Gabriela tried to look away from the distressing sight of the young girl being forced to service the cruel slave wrangler in her place. Even though she was utterly powerless to influence events, she felt a stab of guilt watching the scene.
“Stop squirming!” snapped the make up girl as she forced Gabriela to look straight ahead at the tableaux in front of her.
Cici was standing over Gabriela with her arms folded. She turned and glanced at Gus and his new victim. “Hurry up Gus,” she said in a bored tone, “then go find Harry, he needs something. Dunno what he wants.”
The nude makeup artist shifted positions so that Gabriela’s view was thankfully cut off as Gus grunted his way through his orgasm, snarled something at the girl, and walked out. Gabriela was glad that he was gone and hoped to never see him again… fingers crossed.
Cici hauled Gabriela bodily out of the chair and led her toward the door. The two teenagers in grading collars were standing next to it. Both looked like they were about to start bawling. The face and chest of the one on the right was smeared with what appeared to be semen.
Cici paused, made forceful eye contact with the other slave wranglers in the room, and turned to the makeup girls.
“Minh!”
“Yes, boss!”
“Get this one next, she’s been contaminated. Hop to it.”
“Yes, boss!”
Gabriela was then guided out the door. Mentally, she wished the two younger women luck. Slave grading was a traumatic and important life step for them, and she hoped that the experience hadn’t been ruined by a horny and brutal slave wrangler.
Gabriela’s guide Cici was a middle aged Black woman about 20 years her elder. She strode along easily next to Gabbie with her hand on her butt. She slipped her index finger into Gabriela’s crack without actually penetrating her sphincter. Several previous handlers had done so today, and she was grateful for the forbearance.
“It’s a little different on the other side, isn’t it, honey?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Word is that original gangster Justin Bellefleur just bought his first sex slave… that being you, honey. There’s a lot more going on here than most people know. There was a real commotion in the C-suite when Mr. Bellefleur's two-digit icon appeared on the auction board. Nobody even knew he was in the house. Stay strong, do what he says, and come out on the other side smiling, you got that?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good girl. Just for the record, I never hated you. Lotsa people here did, but I didn’t. Woman’s gotta make her own way in the world somehow and ‘hotshot slaver’ is one of ‘em. On the other hand, everyone has a downfall in life. Live through it, live with it, make it your own. Here we are, good luck.”
The smithy had its own dedicated venting system. Powerful fans sucked the air through vents in the ceiling. As Gabriela was led through the doorway, she felt the air currents on her nude body as they sucked air into the room from the hallway. She had noticed this a few times before as her hair fluttered while passing through this door. But today she wasn’t wearing a skirt suit. With her entire body exposed, it created an entirely different sensation. She shivered... and then the smell hit her.
Gabriela had been in this room several times. Not “many”, but “several”. Occasionally, the firm sold slaves to buyers in other states. They purchased their new slaves remotely, and wanted their new property to receive the full Big D experience before being shipped to them. That meant branding. Someone from Bellefleur Financial needed to physically inspect the new brands in order to ensure that it had been done properly. That somebody was usually Gabriela, the low woman on the totem pole.
As a result, Gabriela was ready for this, or she thought she was. She had been here before. She had smelled the combined scent of burning charcoal and burning flesh. She had graded Prime. She understood from the beginning that she was going to be branded with the “Big D” corporate logo burnt into her flesh as soon as she was sold.
She did her best to ensure that she was as mentally prepared as she could be, but it wasn't good enough.
As soon as she walked in the door, the smell hit her and her body recoiled. This was HER flesh they were going to burn! Her mind was ready, her heart was resigned, but her body had NO INTEREST in being burnt. She bolted… and slammed directly into the open arms of the slave handler who brought her here.
“Whoa there, honey, whoa there! I gotchu, you're not goin’ anywhere. Hold on there, I gotchu, c’mon honey, lemme hold you.”
Cici, who had been doing this for many years now, caught the bolting slave in a wide-gripped bear hug. Braced for impact in advance, she hardly shuddered as she stopped slave 5993 well before the skinny White girl could build up momentum. Then she dug her legs in and began to force the slave through the door.
Gasping in panic, Gabriela looked around for salvation. There! Justin Bellefleur was already in the smithy, talking to Mr. Henry and another man named Joseph Do. Justin really WAS bidder B9! He would save her, he had always been so kind to her, he would never let her be hurt.
Alerted by the commotion, Justin turned around and saw what was happening. I brief look of annoyance and disappointment crossed his face and he pointed an unlit cigar at the row of badging benches.
That look pierced Gabriela's heart. Not because he reaffirmed that she was to be branded, but because she could see that he was disappointed in her. She had embarrassed him. That was unacceptable to her. She could never willingly disappoint him. All resistance ceased, she reversed course, and walked willingly over to the empty branding bench. It was a padded steel frame covered in attachment points to hold slaves still as they were kissed by red hot iron. Gabriela managed one final glance over her shoulder as the slave handler laid her stomach firmly on the bench. Justin wasn't smiling and he wasn't angry, but she saw a sadness in his eyes for a moment before the disinterested mask of a professional slaver reasserted itself.
As with any position of authority, being a slaver requires a significant component of performance art. The slaver must always project an aura of unimpeachable authority, an image of invincibility. It was one of the things that drew Gabriela to him so strongly. Justin's masterful aura wasn't an act, he really was that person. At the same time, because he wasn't acting, he also had the ability to care deeply for the people whose wellbeing was responsibility. Gabriela had seen the compassion for the less fortunate hidden inside his armored shell and knew that there was a beating heart in there. A lonely one. Justin's enemies would never believe its existence, but it was there.
Gabbie realized now that Justin had to put on his "cruel slaver" act for the crowd of onlookers. He had an image to maintain. His firm had a major security breach and one of his employees had been enslaved. His image of invincibility had a hole in it right now, and he needed to patch that up. He was going to do that by burning a hole in Gabriela's ass while he watched, calmly smoking a cigar.
Cici draped Gabriela's willing body over the platform and began to bind her to it, making adjustments in order to ensure that she was too securely bound to harm herself when she started thrashing. Not "if" she started thrashing, "when" she started thrashing. All the while, she kept up a patter of encouraging, sympathetic talk as she forced the frightened girl toward her destiny with a white-hot branding iron. Once Cici was satisfied, Gabriela was so securely tied that she couldn't move a muscle. "There we go, honey, you just wait right there until we're ready for you. Don't go anywhere, now," Cici told her, chuckling at her own joke.
Gabriela experimentally shifted in her bonds a bit. Absolutely nothing moved. Her limbs and torso were completely locked in place, at the mercy of Merle, the smith. Only her head and neck were free to move. Gabriela had always been too squeamish to attend a branding herself, but she knew that freshly branded slaves often bucked from the pain and any attempt to restrain the head could result in injuries to the neck. So her head was free to move and she looked around.
In front of her was a camera pointed directly at her face. Apparently, "Badging Faces" was a popular insert in the Big D's The Sandyfoot magazine each month. Gabriela had never looked at that, either. She was afraid that she would see the face of someone that she had worked to enslave. Or even someone that she knew personally.
Plenty of girls had gone missing from campus over the course of her college career. Some people looked away, pretending that the missing girls had simply dropped out of school or transferred. Other students reveled in it and treated the topic as their favorite gossiping point.
Gabriela realized with a sinking feeling that the camera was going to capture her "badging face" for all the world to see. And those nosy campus gossips were going to see it and entertain themselves by gleefully chatting about her downfall. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now, this was her current place in life and the only possible trajectory was upward. So at least there was that small comfort.
Behind the camera was a plexiglass wall. The Big D auction house charged gawkers five dollars apiece to come in and view the proceedings. Some of them had even groped Gabriela while she was on display for public viewing. Now they were staring at her through the wall from a few feet away, eager to witness her branding. The excited looks on some of those faces churned her stomach. How could people be so vile that they actually enjoyed seeing pretty girls suffer? She looked away, trying to pretend they didn't exist. It was better that way. Instead, she decided to see who was sharing her ordeal today.
On her left was an extraordinarily slender-waisted, busty girl with dark hair wearing a pink grading collar. Even with her breasts squashed flat against the bench's surface, the handlers had to put an additional pad under her stomach so that her spine wasn't too severely arched when they strapped her down. Gabriela knew it was another necessary safety precaution. The Big D didn't want any of its inventory damaged before shipping out. It was exactly the sort of detail that Gabriela had routinely checked in her previous life as a free woman. No reputable merchant wanted to be known for delivering damaged merchandise.
In front of the prone girl were two other people. One of them, kneeling in front of her in the place of the usual camera tripod was a videographer with a large professional camera. He seemed to be setting up his shots and checking the lighting. The other man appeared to be someone from the Bid D marketing department. Gabriela didn't know his name, but he looked familiar. He was leaning over the bound girl and giving her a pep talk. She was obviously extremely frightened and the marketing guy seemed to be trying to calm her down so she wouldn't ruin the take. "All right, Bethany, this is your big finale," he said in a soothing voice "After this, you're all done. We do the big reveal and that's the end of it. It's almost over now. This is the second to last thing you'll do here and then we'll send you off. Try to be brave, honey. Remember, it's for the sea turtles."
"After this you'll let me go?" the frightened young woman asked plaintively.
The marketing guy turned his face away from her and smirked at the camera, then gave it a sly wink. "You know I can't tell you that, honey. The voting is still live, but we have to do the big reveal after we're done here. That was the deal. You know I can't tell you anything before then. Don't worry, though, I'm sure everything will be all right. Your followers will never let you down. And after today, you'll have so many new followers. Your subscriber numbers have gone through the roof during the last few hours. It's been really impressive to see the figures climb. You’re going viral right now as we speak. I’m sure that #savebethany is rocketing upward at this very moment. I guarantee you'll have far more followers than you've ever had. I know it's been tough on you, but you're doing it for the sea turtles."
It finally clicked in her head, that's where Gabriela knew him from. She met him at a networking event that Mr. Bellefleur took her to. He was one of the new "social media initiative" agents. Their job was to promote the Big D's business interests in the ever-shifting world of social media. This looked a lot like an influencer who had been lured into... a trap? A challenge? Something about sea turtles, maybe a charity event?
A bustle of bodies on her right distracted Gabriela from the apprehensive influencer. A pair of similar-looking curvy blondes wearing grading collars were being draped over the two unoccupied branding benches. That left Gabbie as the only true slave on the four branding benches. One woman was older than the second, perhaps her mother? She flopped down onto her bench and wiggled her round bottom in satisfaction, clearly relishing the attention. The other, younger woman, struggled for a bit as she was bent over her bench. She clearly wasn't expecting to be branded during her grading. The Big D's policy was to always brand Prime and Choice graded slaves sold on the premises. Women who were only being graded had the option of getting a brand, but it cost extra. It wasn't hard for Gabriela to figure out what happened. The older woman had signed the two of them up for a mother-daughter slave grading with the deluxe package that included a branding for those that qualified. Even though slavery had only been legal again for a few years, society's attitudes were rapidly changing. A "Big D Prime" brand was considered by many women to be a source of pride. It was easy to see why. Only the hottest 10% of graded women were graded Prime.
The Big D's primary source of revenue was of course the sale of human chattel. But slave grading was its other major income stream. In an effort to increase grading revenue, mother-daughter paired grading had been introduced. The two women were graded as one, so an older woman with an extremely attractive daughter could get a higher grade by participating. This mother was clearly very pleased to receive her brand, while the teenage daughter was not interested at all and was squirming vigorously.
"Too bad," Gabriela thought, "once you're in the system, once you're under their control. They'll do as they please and you have no say in the matter."
Just like herself, she thought glumly. She had had all of her life choices stripped away along with her clothes earlier today. At least she had been rescued... maybe. Probably? Hopefully, Justin would protect her in some way. She had very little hope that he might release her immediately. A professional slaver who did something like that for a mere employee would take an immediate and disastrous hit to his reputation. Doing it for a family member was understandable, even expected. But a mere employee? It would require special circumstances. Was Gabriela special enough to Justin to merit that? She didn’t know. She knew he loved her, but… but she didn’t know. Nothing to be done about it now.
Justin needed to save face, especially after Gabbie's public enslavement at his place of business. He was going to have to be hard on her in order to protect himself and everyone else who worked at Bellefleur Financial. Gabriela was being sacrificed for the greater good. She turned worried eyes back to the influencer girl next to her. Apparently, Gabriela wasn't the only sacrifice today, poor thing. Whatever game the Big D marketing department was playing, she hoped it ended well for Bethany.
Gabriela knew that she would most likely serve most or all of her indenture. She just hoped that Justin would protect her by not selling her to someone awful. She shuddered at the thought. As a professional slaver, albeit one with very limited experience, Gabriela knew that slavery encompassed a whole field of horrors. On the other hand, Justin might decide to keep her as his personal sex toy. In contrast to the fearful thoughts before, that image gave Gabriela an erotic thrill. ANY woman under Justin Bellefleur's power and protection would feel the same. Gabbie was certain of it. Who wouldn't feel that way?
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
First Meeting
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It was no accident that Gabriela masturbated to visions of Justin Bellefleur during her block routine. She had been immediately impressed with him when they first met him only a year and a half ago at the college career fair, He was tall, well-dressed, and very gentlemanly. Based on his reactions, he was very pleased with her as well.
The day had been very long and frustrating. She was wearing her brand-new interview outfit - red pencil skirt with matching jacket, cream silk blouse, red leather pumps, stockings and faux pearls. She knew she needed to present a striking appearance if she was going to compete with her male classmates. Her female professors had impressed upon her that a professional woman needed to look her best in order to be her best.
The field of Slavery Studies was heavily male for a number of reasons, and her job search was an uphill swim. She was determined to make it, though. At this point, she really had no other choice. She was committed. Given her current student debt load, she absolutely needed to put her degree to work and get a high-paying job in her chosen field. Failure was not an option. The percentage of female Slavery Studies majors who did NOT become slaves was... frighteningly low, and heavily weighted toward the lower slave grades. Gabriela had provisionally graded at "Prime Minus" three years earlier, so that was yet another mark against her.
That morning, Gabriela had risen at 5:30 AM to get ready. Everything had to be perfect. Hair, make up, outfit, it all had to be flawless. She needed to make the right impression. Today was too important to her future. "Failure is not an option!" she told herself in the mirror before she left. "Will power and a can-do attitude moves mountains!"
She arrived an hour early for her 8:00 appointment with her annotated folders of company profiles ready for action. The morning hadn't gone well. Corporate recruiters' eyes had simply slid over her before fixing onto one of her male classmates. The eyes that did NOT merely slide over her just stripped her naked, assigned her a sales price and then moved on. She could practically feel their thoughts tickling over her body like cockroaches. It was frustrating. She was smart, she was hard-working, she was at or near the head of her class in everything she did... but none of it seemed to count because she didn't have a penis.
At lunchtime, she regrouped. The cost of her interview suit had wrecked her budget for the remainder of the school year, so she bought a light snack in the campus food court while she pored over her notes. The morning schedule had mostly been big banks and financial resources firms. They hired junior analysts by the bus load. Obviously, Gabbie reasoned, they were looking for cookie-cutter fits for their corporate cultures. The afternoon would be different, though. It was a more heterogenous mix - a variety of wholesale organizations that dealt in physical bodies and a scattering of smaller, boutique slavery firms. These jobs might not pay as much as Big Corporate, but they came with health insurance and a sufficient salary to pay down her student loans if she budgeted carefully.
Gabriele gathered her things, took a deep breath, and headed out. This time it was going to work!
It hadn't. At 3:45 in the afternoon, she was looking at yet another empty booth. The convention hall was emptying rapidly. She was sifting through dregs now. There had to be some gold here. At least this booth still had a few brochures and a stack of business cards left behind. She put her now-much-heavier bag down and started checking the brochures for names and phone numbers. "Bellefleur Financial," she read aloud. Whoever these guys were, they had apparently found what they wanted and gone home. Nevertheless, it was still possible that arrangements might fall through. A determined woman showing up at the right time and place could seize an unexpected opportunity and...
"Huh, looks like I'm too late." spoke a bemused masculine voice behind her.
Startled out of her glum reverie, Gabriela spun about and... looked up. This man was very tall, 6'3" at least. In her by-now-painful pumps, Gabriela was 5'10" tall. He was dressed in a very sharp suit that was slightly disheveled. Gabriela understood that at this hour of the day it was impossible to look one's best, but someone needed to be taking better care of this man. His suit and shoes were expensive but hadn't been carefully maintained and required updating, the shoes especially.
Nevertheless, he seemed important, and she immediately thrust out her hand and gave him her best smile. It was a tired smile, but it was the absolute best she had at this moment. "Hi!" she greeted him cheerily, "I'm Gabriela Chavez and I'm looking for work!"
"I see," he said, chuckling drily while taking her proffered hand and making a show of staring about the empty booth in confusion, "have you seen my HR manager? She seems to have gone missing."
Gabriela glanced down at the assorted business cards in her other hand. This was clearly an important man and he wanted something. If Gabbie had the answer, he would be grateful! She pulled up one of the business cards she collected and asked brightly, “Mary Winters?”
“That's her,” he answered with a smile, “have you seen her?”
“No sir, I have not,” she told him honestly. “I was just about to call her and leave a message.”
“Hmm...” he frowned and started scrolling through his phone. “Well, that's not good. Give me a moment, will you? There's a chair right over there.”
Gabriela turned and, spotting the indicated chair, quickly smoothed her skirt and sat down. She still wasn't sure who she was talking to, but he seemed nice, and he had that indefinable air of command. He was clearly someone who expected to be obeyed and she did so without thinking. It felt good. Finally, someone was in charge around here.
“Hello Mary, is everything all right?... No, no, I'm at the job fair. I didn't get your email until just now. No, that's fine, one second.”
He turned to Gabriela and pointed at her binder. “Resume.”
Gabbie had paid extra at the campus printing shop to have twenty resumes printed on expensive cloth paper. She also had another 40 printed on regular printer paper just in case she needed them. After an entire day of at the job fair, she still had 18 of the expensive versions left. She swiftly placed one in his hand. He glanced at it, reading quickly. Somehow, she knew that this quick review contained more interest and comprehension than she had received all day.
“Yeah,” he said, “I just interviewed a great candidate, and she looks good on paper. Yes, ‘she’, is that a problem? Fine, see you tomorrow. Give Jobie kisses for me and I hope he feels better soon.”
Gabriela waited while he scrolled through a few more messages on his phone before turning it off and slipping it into his breast pocket. He looked up at her. He was practically the first man to bother to look her in the eyes all day. “So,” he began, “what did you have for lunch?”
“Oh, umm...” she was a bit nonplussed at the unexpected question and began to gather her things to give herself time to collect her thoughts. He was so considerate and courtly! “I had tater-tots.”
“Really?” he asked. “Did they charge you for ten tots, and then toss five tots and a pile of greasy potato fragments at you?”
She scowled up at him. “Most certainly not! I received SIX entire tots and a pile of assorted half-tots, thank you very much! They were delicious.”
He threw back his head and laughed, obviously delighted by her quick and clever response. “All right,” he said, still grinning. Gabbie loved the way his previously stern visage lit up. She felt a sudden urge to make it happen again. “All right then, I missed lunch myself, too much rushing around today,” he continued. “Suppose we...” he waved her resume at her, “...continue this interview somewhere else. Someplace with food. I'm famished and expect that you are, too.”
Gabriela reached for her purse. She might have enough cash if she ordered something inexpensive. She didn’t dare own a credit card. Or maybe they could go to that place with unlimited bread sticks and she could...
He noticed her furtive fumbling and cut it off right quick. “My treat, it's a business lunch. We need to continue your interview and I don't want to do it hungry.”
“Oh, umm,” she quickly re-stowed her things and looked up. He was standing over her holding out an elbow like a fine gentleman in a play.
Although her heart leaped upward at the sight, Gabbie frowned at him instead. “I do not believe we have been introduced,” she said in her most ladylike tone of voice. She was trying hard not to be coquettish, but some of it must have bled through. It was terribly embarrassing, but there was no help for it. He just had that aura.
“Justin Bellefleur,” he replied with a slight smile and a bow, “just like it says on the tin.”
Oh! Well then! His name was on the company banner, surely this was a man of influence! And he had already told "his" HR manager that she was hired. Having a late lunch with him seemed like a great idea to Gabbie right now. Plus, she was really hungry. Tater-tot fragments in ketchup soup really didn't make for a very appetizing meal. Nor was the dinner of instant noodles and diced bologna that she was expecting to dine on at her apartment tonight.
She gave him her very best smile again and hooked her arm into his, letting him help her out of the chair. Her smile was now far brighter and more hopeful than the strained "very best" smile that she had given him a few minutes ago. Things were looking up!
"Hmm..." he spoke thoughtfully while carefully removing the heavy bag from her shoulder and placing it over his own. She hadn't asked him to, and he certainly hadn't requested permission, he simply acted as a matter of course. It was pure old-fashioned chivalry. "I suppose we'll have to go to Maria's Steakhouse. It's close and they have a superb variety."
They walked arm in arm toward the entrance hall. Justin seemed to know a lot of people and he smiled and nodded as he greeted them. Gabriela looked up at his face as he did so, though, and noticed that he was giving his fellow slavers an entirely different smile than the one he had directed at her. On the surface, it was entirely correct. But it never quite reached his eyes. She also noticed that they treated him with great deference and respect... and that deference seemed to extend to her now. No longer feeling like a brave mouse sneaking into a hawk convention, she felt quite safe on his arm.
Gabbie was pondering her sudden change in status as they approached the exhibition hall entrance, where he slipped her hand off his elbow so that he could open the door for her. She smiled up at him in gratitude and then there it was again - that genuine smile that made his previously-cold grey eyes twinkle a bit.
"We'll take my car," he informed her, "I'm in the parking garage. It's this way."