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Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Proud, educated, professional women who secretly long for humiliation, discipline, or slavery have their fantasies fulfilled.
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imreadonly2
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Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

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Thank you to everyone who responded with comments or a vote. It has taken quite a bit of time to finish this, but it is much easier if you have the sense that someone is enjoying your work.

Now, onto the triumphant return of one my favorite characters from the classic Southwest Shipping, Professor Merle Atkins. :clap:


Merle Atkins returned a few minutes later, and I spent the next hour listening and watching as he branded a succession of naked bottoms. Merle was a man who really enjoyed his work, and always took his time to show the girl the red-hot iron and explain her branding in loving detail.

A number of the brands were temporaries for housewives or college students who wanted to get their butts branded as a Christmas present to husbands or boyfriends returning for Christmas break. Merle told these girls they were smart to get it done early, as he was deluged by women who wanted to get their butts branded on December 22nd or December 23rd, so many that even with the Christmas help The Big D had to turn women away.

“It’s all about quality,” he’d explain. “People come to us because they know we do exceptional work,” he’d say, holding up the glowing iron in the terrified girl’s faces. “If we lose our commitment to quality, it’s game over.”

Then he’d brand their butts, and they’d scream and pee on themselves, and it would be time for the next girl.

I’d been flattered that Merle knew so much about me but watching him work I discovered that he reviewed the files of every girl he branded. This was unusual for The Big D, where identity was purposely erased in favor of grade, and all girls were treated like tits-and-ass as they were pushed through the cattle yard system. Although it was slightly ‘off brand’ (pun intended), I think he enjoyed getting to know a bit about the women he branded, and always made a point of talking to them like individuals. As a highly intelligent man, he enjoyed getting to know them as individuals, and personalities, because it emphasized their humiliation, and what he was taking away from them forever.

“If you want my opinion, Mrs. Lawrence, I think you should go for the bigger brand, worthy of entrepreneur such as yourself. You have a mighty fine ass, and your husband is going to want something he can grab ahold of, when he fucks you.”

“We can use the anesthesia if you want, Scarlett, but I think it will be a more memorable experience for you if you just let me put the bit in the mouth instead. Getting your butt numbed up before getting branded is like going sightseeing with a hood over your head.”

“I can’t give you The Big D logo, Teresa. You didn’t quite make the grade, but I can brand the word SLAVE right on your pussy mound. I think your boyfriend would love it, and there’s no trademark on that.”

The slave girls had no choice about their brands, of course, but Merle talked to them, too. I hung there, Skeeter’s spunk swimming around my womb, staring at the rubber, conscious of the snap-crackle-pop of the irons that would soon be branding my butt in the brazier a few feet away from me, listening as Merle made small talk with girls who would soon be branded forever as slave girls.

Of course, with slave girls he didn’t use names. The last 3 digits of the SIN was a more appropriate way of identifying girls whose human identity he was about to destroy.

“Well, getting your ass branded and sold probably wasn’t the Christmas present you were hoping for, 497, but those are the breaks. At least you’re going to get a really pretty Arabic brand out of the deal. Look at that glow! Isn’t it pretty? I love the little curls they put on everything. Yeah, it’s not many girls your age that get to visit Qatar.”

“Yeah, sorry, 202, the bits don’t taste very good. We could wash ‘em, I guess, but I think tasting the other girl’s spit, and feeling your teeth marks slide into all the little grooves the other girls made, makes you feel like you’re part of that exclusive slave girl sisterhood, am I right? Don’t worry—once we’re done they’ll fit you with a nice gag coated in some guy’s cum. Yummy!”

“Okay, now I’m going to pull the laces tight, 573, so your mouth is going to open up as your lips pull back. That’s a girl! Just like when you were homecoming queen last month. That’s what I call a branding smile!”

Merle Atkins relentless cheerfulness could be called mocking, and I’m sure sadism played no small part in his enjoyment. Understanding that you were here because you got sick and screwed up your organic chemistry exam, or your father’s farm failed, or you wanted your husband to stop fucking slave girls and look at you “that way”, or because someone made your husband an offer he couldn’t refuse during your “Any Chance?” auction, made feeling that hot iron press into your ass all that much more fun—at least for him.

I had been heads-down for so long that I was actually feeling queasy, and while I was glad when Skeeter returned and flipped me back into branding position like I was a folding table, I was also terrified, for I knew my moment had come.

“Good to see ya’, Skeeter,” Atkins said. “Ready to see me do my finest work?”

“Sure, am Professor,” Skeeter said. “I’m always ready to learn from you.”

“Truth is, I’m trying something a bit new here. It’s not often I get to brand such a fine lookin’ ass. I’d like you to stand back, because we’re filming this, but if you could get a few shots with your phone, that would be great, too.”

“Sure thing, Professor,” Skeeter said, pulling out his phone.

Atkins picked up the branding iron that he had fucked me with and stuck it into the brazier until the first iron clicked in place.

“It locks in, with a double bolt,” he explained. “You can’t have any wobble during the burning, or it will screw up the brand. Like popping a virgin, you only get one shot at this, so you got to do it right.”

Atkins held the brand up in front of my face, turning it to-and-fro so I could see it from every angle.

“See that curve, Northwestern?” he said. “I spent a ton of time modeling your butt and the brand in the computer, to get it just right. Then I tested my theory out on some pig hides to make sure it’d actually work.”

“What’s so special about her brand, Professor?” Skeeter asked. “Other than the curve.”

“The curve is the key, Skeeter. Normally, you try to just burn the flat part, but I’m going for something special. I want the legs to wrap about her curves. I call this a butt hugger—it’ll show up ever’ time she wears a bikini, maybe even when she wears leggings.”

Atkins put it back in the fire as he explained. “I was up all night working on your brands, Northwestern. When Rosco gave me that doodle bug sketch, and then I saw you bend over and spread your cheeks on the auction block, I knew this was my chance to do something special. Lot of work, but damn, you have an ass, girl. Getting the measurements, modeling it in the computer, then using the 3D printer at the school to get the iron to within a 100th of an inch. This is going to be good.”

Atkins removed the iron from the fire and held it up in front of my face so I could get a closer look. Grinning, he blew on the tip, causing the color to change slightly, and the heat to wash over my face.

Even with the “O” gag in my mouth, I screamed at the sight of the brand.

“Whewww, you do look scared!” he said, laughing. “Look at you, drooling, with your eyes all bugged out, like one of those cartoon Minions! Well, you should be, scared. I won’t lie to you, Northwestern. This is really going to hurt. But it’s for your own good. You need to understand that you’re chattel, no different than a cow, or a pig, or a goat. And what better way of doing that than branding your butt?”

“I know you think you’re pretty smart, Northwestern, but smart girls don’t end up with their ass in the air on my branding rack. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another stupid slave bimbo who needs to get her ass branded, so she can learn her place.”

“Let’s get this show going,” he said, walking behind me. We don’t want to let this thing cool.”

There was a mirror in front of me, so Atkins, bastard that he was, could see the look on my face when he pressed the brand home. It meant I could also see him grinning as he pressed the branding iron down into my butt, laughing as I screamed from the mind-numbing pain.

I thought the flash of light was from the pain, but in fact it was Skeeter’s camera.

“Turn that thing off. I don’t want to get distracted.”

“Not sure why it went off,” Skeeter said, puzzled. “It’s bright enough in here.”

“The color changing, and brightness of the branding head can throw off the sensors for the flash,” Atkins said, dousing the first leg into the fire, releasing it, and moving to the brazier for the second.

“Well, you learn something new every day. So why are you taking so long to do each brand?”

Atkins adopted a pedantic tone. “I need to get the leg right on the edge, so the legs don’t cross the body. Next time, I might try to mold this as a single brand, but with all these curves I didn’t think I could get the 3D printer to cut it right, not without some work on the software. I’m all about technology, but sometimes the old ways are the best.”

“That’s the cool thing about branding, Northwestern. Since the dawn of civilization, they’ve been using brands to mark chattel and slave girls. Creating things, and owning them, is what makes us human—even when we’re marking ownership of something that used to be human. I’m sure that 10 minutes after men discovered fire, they branded some hot slave girl’s ass.”

“Alexander the Great, The Greeks, The Romans, our founding fathers, they all marked their slave girls. Branding girl’s butts, and artistry and craftsmanship you bring to it, is the hallmark of truly advanced societies.”

Speaking of hallmarks, it’s time for your second brand,” Professor Atkins said, holding up the glowing iron for my inspection. “It’s sort of like the first one, only it’s going to hurt a bunch more, because it’s so close to where I just branded you.”

“Maybe you should switch sides as you brand,” Skeeter suggested.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Atkins said, laughing. “No, I want to make sure Northwestern gets the full experience. A memory to keep her bottom warm on those cold, Chicago nights. Here it comes!”

As promised, the second brand, just inches above the other, burned like the devil’s fire.

“She’s got a real set of lungs on her, doesn’t she?” Atkins said, laughing. “Okay, now here’s the biggie: the left wing. It’s almost as big as the torso, and it’s really going to smart, because it’s going to curve practically into your butt crack. Sorry.”

The leering smile on his face as he applied the brand made it clear that he wasn’t sorry at all.

“Well, well, look at who just pissed herself. That’s the most important tip I can give you Skeeter. Always make sure you have kitty litter under the rack, and stand far enough back so the filthy little piggies don’t spray your boots.”

“She looks a little dazed, Professor. Do we want to wait a bit, to make sure she feels it fully?”

“Oh, she’s feeling it,” Atkins said, laughing. “I think our little Miss here is understanding her place in the world, and who’s in charge. Isn’t that right, Northwestern? Still think the Big D is a shithole?”

All I could do was cry out in agony.

Atkins held up the next pulsing, glowing iron in front of my face, turning it in the light. “Top, left side, Northwestern. It was quite genteel of you to stop pissing yourself when I took the iron off your ass, but I bet I can get a few more drops from you.”

Atkins laughed as he pressed the iron home, and once again, I pissed myself. Score: Professor Atkins 4, Slave Girl 0.

“Ha, there she goes! Look at that stream, Skeeter! She doesn’t want to pee in front of us, but the little bitch can’t help it. Oh, look, she’s making herself stop again. My, for a girl getting her butt branded, she sure does think a lot of herself.”

“Mom says Anna-Annie can strut sittin’ down,” Skeeter said.

Atkin’s laughed. “She won’t be sitting down tonight. Well, my daddy always said, when a girl gets too big for her britches, it’s time to fire up the iron, and take them britches down.”

As the two exchanged a laugh, I strained against the bars, trying to get free, trying not to pee, eyes bulging, sweat rolling down my face and into my eyes, drool rolling down my chin.

The Big D had done its magic. I was a barnyard animal, terrified, peeing on myself, incapable of human speech. I had no agency whatsoever. I could be washed, sold, branded, ringed, or “fixed.” Maybe they would, or maybe they wouldn’t, but the point was, the decisions were no longer mine to make. I was livestock, and I couldn’t negotiate, or beg, or run. Under Texas law, I was an animal, with fewer rights than my dog, Buster. Whatever happened to me wasn’t my choice.

“I think she needs a break,” Skeeter said. “She’s looking Slave Stupid. Let’s help her regain her focus.”

“Wanna let her ride the handle?” Atkins said.

“Great idea, Professor!” Skeeter said. “I’ll film it and send it to my ma. That way she’ll know what a great time Anna Annie’s having!”

And so, they loosened my restraints, the handle of the branding iron was inserted into my twat, and I was unceremoniously but thoroughly fucked. Actually, I did most of the fucking, as the perversity of what was happening to me was driving my pussy insane. It was the branding equivalent of winning the ERGOT, the Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony awards. All at once.

Skeeter walked around me, filming as I debased myself. When at last I creamed on the branding handle, he filmed a close-up of my face. “The kids aren’t going to believe this!” he enthused.

“She looks exhausted,” Skeeter observed.

“I have just the thing to brighten up her wits,” Merle said, holding up the next brand. “Time to make the other side perfect, Northwestern.”

“First and ten, let’s do it again,” Skeeter chuckled.

“Exactly. We’ll start at the bottom, and work up. I got a real rhythm going now. I bet it’s more fun the second time.”

It wasn’t, but I was too exhausted to scream, and I didn’t fight to stop myself from peeing.

“Wow, she’s pissing like a racehorse. Yeah, she’s learning. Not so fussy now, are you, Northwestern? Maybe your next Ted Talk can be on what it feels like to piss yourself when you’re getting your ass fried. I’m sure that will rack up a lot of views on YouTube.”

It only took seconds for Atkins to move to the next iron, and then the next iron after that, but he still made time to chat.

“Time for the next wing already! Are you getting tired, Northwestern? Because I’m not. I could do this all day, and then go out for pizza. You tired, Skeeter?”

“Not at all, Mr. Atkins. I love watching an artist at work.”

“I wish I could take all the credit for this, but the truth is, your aunt’s ass is the perfect canvas. Skin all soft and white, burns but doesn’t blister. She takes to the iron like she was born for it. Nice and round, but tight as drumskin. That butt is firm! It’s like branding Supergirl.”

“Now there’s a thought!” Skeeter said. “She does have several personal trainers.”

“Well, they’re getting a basket of fruit from me this Christmas, because all their hard work has paid off today. In fact, remember to send them all photos of her branded butt.”

The conversation was surreal, but in the context of The Big D, it made total sense. As a mere slave girl, it was impossible to give me any personal credit. Years in the gym meant that my TRAINERS were doing a good job. If you admire a table, you compliment the carpenter, not the wood.

As promised, the second enormous wing caused me to lose it. Atkins threw a bucket of water on me to wake me up.

“Ouch!” Skeeter said, chuckling. “She really felt that second wing, Professor.”

“Yes, she did, Skeeter. But always remember, this if for her own good. This is where the real learning takes place.”

“This is the last leg, Northwestern,” he said, holding up the iron. “Your butt has been quite the experience, let me tell you. I brand a lot of sweet little asses, but I’m going to remember yours, and that’s the nicest compliment a blacksmith can give.”

Moving back to business, Professor Atkins gently fingered my wet pussy. “I’m betting you’ll remember me, too. Girls always remember me. You’re educated, so you understand what I’m saying, and what a life changing experience getting branded can be. Truth is, after spending 10 minutes with me, a girl is never the same. Branding really messes with a girl’s head. You’ll be dreaming about me, and wake up screaming, for years to come. But you’ll thank me for it, because I’m the one who turned your life around. After I’m done with you, you’ll understand you’re not so special. You’ll understand what it means to be livestock. You’ll understand that branding your ass isn’t any different than branding the leather on Skeeter’s boots.”

Professor Atkins was right. He had changed me, in my body, mind, and heart. He had made me a slave girl, now and forever. As a slave, I felt honored and grateful that the great Professor Atkins had taken the time to give me such a magnificent brand.

What a lucky slave girl I was. I knew the other Pleasure Sluts would be so jealous!

Although I was gagged, Professor Atkins, an expert in neuroscience and slave psychology, understood me fully, and gently stroked the hair out of my eyes as I attempted to grunt out my thanks.

“Don’t worry, Northwestern, I’ll let you thank me soon,” he said, holding up the final glowing leg in front of my terrified eyes. “That’s enough psychological theory. It’s time for a practical application.”

Was the last one easier? No, it wasn’t. It was hell, only now I was hoarse from screaming, if you call it screaming, with my mouth hanging open like a sex doll.

“Wow, this looks really great, Professor. I can see it coming together now. Sort of like watching a picture develop.”

“Surprised you even know what developing pictures looks like, son,” Atkins replied.

“I saw it on the History Channel,” Skeeter explained. Both men laughed. I did not.

It was done. Finished. So was I.

Or so I thought. “Can I do the antenna?” Skeeter asked eagerly.

“Well, since we have to get this just right, I’m going to guide it. But I’ll let you put your hand on the stick.”

“Left one first, Skeeter?”

“Let’s do it!” he said eagerly.

“I couldn’t believe it. Two more brands. I screamed “No, please, stop!”, which came out ‘Ohh…ehh…aww”.

“She can’t wait,” Atkins observed, chuckling knowingly. “Rich girls and MILFs, they are all alike. All those years of working out in the gym, getting their asses all toned up for Merle’s iron.”

“I know I can’t wait,” Skeeter said, his voice dripping with childish eagerness. “Branding Anna Annie’s ass is the best Christmas gift EVER!”

Atkins laughed. “Okay, don’t put any pressure on the stick, or jerk it. Just let me guide it. I want you to touch it, but not direct it. If you move it, even a little, it will screw up the brand. You need rock steady hands for this work.”

“I understand, Professor. I’ll be careful,” Skeeter said solemnly.

The two antennae were a bit smaller than the legs, which meant less burn. Skeeter held the iron for the second one, too.

“Last part of the doodle bug, I’m sorry to say. But it is a beauty! Time to make your ass perfect, Northwestern.”

Skeeter was all smiles as the final brand was driven home. When he was done, he gave Atkins a high five. I simply hung in my branding rack, exhausted.

“Wow, I really got to brand Anna Annie’s butt. She didn’t holler as much,” Skeeter noted, sounding a disappointed. “Did we do it right?”

“It’s a smaller brand, plus I think she’s getting to like it,” he noted. “Really submissive girls like Northwestern here get acclimated to the brand, which is why temporaries are good. You can brand them over and over, and the fun never stops.”

I groaned in horror, not that anyone cared.

“So, it’s over?” Skeeter said.

“Not quite. I do believe on the original drawing, you signed it. Which means we have one more treat for our guest of honor…”

To my horror, Atkins took another brand out of the fire. It was a brand replicating Skeeter’s childish signature, with the “S” and “R” backwards. “An artist must sign his work,” Atkins said proudly.

Skeeter let out a slow whistle, marveling at the size and skill of the branding head Merle had crafted. “This one just needs to be to the right, a couple of inches below the doodle bug,” Atkins said, marking the location on my ass with a magic marker. Think you can put her there, partner, without my help?”

“Can I ever!” Skeeter said enthusiastically.

Moving around to the front, Atkins unzipped his pants. “Okay, then, let’s make this special. I’m going to let her suck my cock, and when I come, I want you to brand her ass. Do you think you can do that, Skeeter?”

Atkins smiled down at me as he put his girthy, fat tool in my mouth. I immediately went to work, determined to make him come as hard as possible, to thank him in the only way a girl like me could. “Time for my tip! Here’s your chance to say thank you, slave girl, for the magnificent art I burned into your ass.”

Using my tongue, I pleasured his sweaty pecker for all I was worth, as he egged me on. “That’s it Northwestern, time to make your dreams come true. Suck off the man who burned Skeeter’s doodle bug into your sweet ass. I’ve never got to rinse out the mouth of some little slut when I was branding her, so this will be a new one for me, too. Get a picture of this, Skeeter. I want everyone to see her with my dick in her mouth.”

“This is the sort of Ted Talk a girl like you should give, with your tongue swirling around my sausage. Not looking so hoity-toity now, are you? Damn, you’re good at this. Girls are usually pretty sloppy with these ‘O’ ring gags in their mouth, but not you, you figured it out right away. Clever girl! Okay, here it comes. Skeeter, get ready. OHHHHHH!”

Skeeter burned his signature into my ass with gusto. It was the biggest brand yet, and I might have passed out, except for Merle Atkins shouting, “YES, YES” as he shot his salty load in my mouth. Spurt, spurt, spurt.

Behind me, Skeeter gave a slow wolf whistle, and clapped his hand with his thigh, as he admired his signature on my ass.

My blacksmith’s scum was everywhere, on my tongue, on my lips, dribbling down my chin. Skeeter had the time of his life branding his name on my butt, and from the grin of ecstasy on his face, I can tell Merle enjoyed himself, too.

“I haven’t come that hard since I was 18, girl,” he said, tussling my hair. “You ever need a reference as a cocksucker, or somebody to do the other cheek, you give me a call,” he added with a wink.

At last, they took the gag out of my mouth. I was careful not to swallow Professor Atkin’s spunk, as permission had not been granted.

My legs were so weak they had to lift me off the branding bench. When they showed me my ass in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it. It was a perfect replica of the drawing hanging next to my Picasso in Chicago, only better. The ridge burns really did make it seem to be 3-D, and Merle had added perspective, so the bug really did seem to be gripping my ass.

“Whadday think, Anna Annie?” Skeeter asked.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “All the other girls will be so jealous.”

My reaction might seem odd, but the branding had really gotten me into the head of being a slave girl. I loved status symbols, and having such a unique brand was the biggest status symbol a slave girl could have. It proved I had a rich and generous master, who cared enough to give me the very best. Pleasure Sluts will fight over slave candy or slave beads or other trinkets, to establish their status over the other girls. Skeeter and Professor Atkins had given me a gift I, as a mere slave girl, could never repay.

Skeeter was holding me, but he let me drop to my knees.

“Thank you, Professor Atkins, for your magnificent brand,” I said, kissing his boots.

Turning to Skeeter, I stared at his boots, at the logo I had paid to burn on the leather, identical to the one he had burned on to my butt. “Thank you, Master, for sharing your talent, and for marking me as your own.” Slowly, lovingly, I kissed Skeeter’s boots. I was his.

Skeeter and Professor Atkins talked for a moment, about what I do not know. I was a slave girl and showing my master my submission was all that mattered.

Skeeter threw me over his shoulder, so my ass was facing forward as he walked me back to the kennels. Much to my pride, several of Skeeter’s friends remarked on my amazing brand as we passed.

“Nice logo on her butt, Skeeter. You setting up your own auction house, buddy?”

“Wow that’s a doozy. Mind if I stop to take a picture?”

“Damn, is that thing moving?”

I felt a surge of pride as I was put in my kennel for the night. There were about 20 girls, all freshly branded, but mine was the best. All of us were exhausted, physically and mentally. For many, it was their first night of being a slave. Crawling up the side of the cage, I managed to get my lips around the penis head spout of the water tap?, sucking out the delicious, sperm infused slave water.

It was a chilly December night, and the warehouse was cold, so we piled our naked bodies together for warmth. Exhausted, I fell into a deep and restful sleep, gently fondling my throbbing, beautiful brand.

Image
Last edited by imreadonly2 on Thu Dec 01, 2022 1:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

Joe; love this series but is that the end? I hope not love to see Annie finish her sentence with most of the auction losers. Thanks for a wonderful series either way.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

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I'm so glad you are enjoying it. This is not the end, and there are several more chapters to go. I've written at least two more long chapters, but I'll need to complete a bridge section this weekend before I can publish those. I'll publish another short chapter this week, and the rest next week. So stay tuned! :D
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

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Wow that is the most epic branding scene ever! Thank you. After such a scene, I can't see N'western returning to her old life at all. Keep up the great work.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

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I see a TedTalk here with the professor badging a girl.

Grabbing a branding iron out of the coals "The Professor" squatted down in front of the slave girl so that they were at eye level with each other. He held the iron with the branding head between them. The slave girl could feel the heat emanating from the bright orange head bearing the Big D logo on her face. Merle blew on the glowing head causing the coloration to fluctuate. The little slut was captivated, the look on her face was a combination of marvel and fear at the beauty of the hot iron. It almost seemed alive. The Professor sensed her awe as he spoke to her.

"Look at the magnificence of the hot branding head, the different shades of hot orange as I blow on it, it is alive. Badging a girl is an art form. It is not just pushing down and counting to ten. Creating the perfect brand is a combination of the right heat, dwell time holding the iron in place, rocking the head to ensure uniformity and the force used to push the iron into the flesh. The question is do you want the perfect brand?"

The slave nodded her head with glazed eyes hypnotized by the glowing iron before her. Merle grinned and spat on the branding head causing it to sizzle as the pleasure slut's eyes bulged open bringing her out of her trance. The audience that had been in hushed awe erupted in anticipation of what came next.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by Belinda »

Just finished the complete reread and the new segments. Just a marvelous piece of work. Everyone should go back and read this from the start. Thank you so much for this story.

Yours truly,

Belinda
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by Darrenwhipsthesluts »

Simply put, one of your all time greats Joe! Now we just need to get Annie, Sarah and our red headed Southern Belle from “ A Really Scary Halloween “ in trouble at one Omar and Jerome Willie’s African Reparations Plantations! Lol. Perhaps Lady Charlotte will be doing her penance for getting uppity with Omar at the whipping post or birching horse ( perhaps Number Four has been obtained from Goodgulf Female Reformatory on loan ) upon their arrival- the three so shocked at Omar’s strict ,full strength whipping of the sweaty, welted and repentant slave, - they all simultaneously orgasm without permission at the sight and sound of it. And thus, the troublesome threesome began the shenanigans that ultimately earn our dripping trio the harshest punishments in any of Omar and Abdul’s records!

Yes, I know, a bit of drivel posing as miscellaneous meandering above while I should have stuck to talking about Joe’s latest masterpiece!
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

Joe: Thanks for responding on Nov 30. I look forward to reading your bridge chapter and any future chapters in this series. This series is becoming my favorite surpassing Sandy Foot now and Lady Charlotte's adventures. I am very pleased to read all your recent submissions and your future work. Your stories keep me from thinking about current events. Merry Christmas.
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jeepster
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by jeepster »

Love this chapter with Atkins! He is the perfect guy to be branding these slave sluts!
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 19 by Joe Doe

Post by timerider »

Thanks Joe, for the marvelous, Branding details on it's ass, epic. :tiphat:
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