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Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Proud, educated, professional women who secretly long for humiliation, discipline, or slavery have their fantasies fulfilled.
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Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

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Merry Christmas, and thank you to my editor, Carl, for all of his help and great suggestions.
Annie End of the End
It was fun catching up with Skeeter. We chatted about work and school, and I tussled his hair and teased him about “finding any new girlfriends” like the cool, hip Aunt I was. He was suitably impressed by the scope of my plans for the Union Stockyards, and I told him he could get in “on the ground floor” if he wanted.

I wondered how Rita might feel about him moving to Chicago. Secretly, I hoped that all three of them would come, so we could all live closer together, as a family.

I had asked Jake to set the girls up in a staging area that was used before auctions, the same staging area that I had been prepped in prior to being trotted down the hall to the cattle chute that led me to the block. It was exciting to visit the area, with the same examination table that I had once lain on, not as a Pleasure Slut, but as a respected female professional.

Jake’s accountant Rebecca was there and greeted me warmly. She was talking to Samuel Norton, of Legendary Slavers. He was 50ish, chubby, with a gray flattop and Clark Kent glasses. He was fawning and obsequious, as he should be, given what I had paid him for the slaves I was about to see.

“I wanted to let you know that Jake is very excited about your Chicago proposal,” Rebecca said. “He’s told me to do whatever it takes to give you a sense of what we bring to the table.”

“I’m very aware of what you bring to the table, Rebecca,” I said, glancing at the examination table next to her. “During my visit in December, I acquired an insider’s view of The Big D, and I must say I was most impressed with the efficiency of your operations.”

“Thank you, Miss Powers,” Rebecca said, bowing her head. “Coming from you that is quite the compliment.”

“It’s not really The Big D’s operations that are in question,” I said, turning to Norton. “What I’m here to see is if Legendary Slavers lives up to the hype.”

“I do believe you will be most pleased,” Mr. Norton said.

On cue, a slave monger appeared, leading a coffle of naked slave girls, who promptly knelt on the cement with their legs spread and their fingers locked atop of their heads, thrusting their breasts forward. I wasn’t impressed, I was stunned. I walked very slowly down the line of kneeling pleasure sluts, each of whom could have been my sister if not my twin. Anyone of them could have been mistaken for me, even at close range.

I was shocked to see Skeeter’s doodle bug brand on each of their bottoms.

“This is extraordinary,” I said. “I had seen the pictures in the catalog, but I never dreamed… How is this even possible?”

“Without revealing too many trade secrets, when an order arrives, we use our web crawler to locate possible candidates. Then we send out our acquisitions department to acquire the girls we need. We will occasionally do surgical touchups, but the closer you can get to the original, the better. The truth is, there are only so many faces out there, and each of us is less unique than we might suppose.”

Looking at so many mirror images of myself naked, and kneeling before me, was a surreal experience. I walked up and down the line, struggling to grasp what I was seeing. I was simultaneously pleased that Legendary Slaves had done their job so well and distressed that I was so easy to replicate, at least physically.

Skeeter asked if the girls were “properly trained, given the short time span.”

“We do the Lord’s work, son. It’s like St. Paul says, “Slaves, be obedient to your human masters, with fear and trembling in your heart. That’s scripture, son, so you know it’s true.”

It was definitely time for a new bottle of wine. Skeeter did the pouring. I took my time inspecting them, pausing in front of each of them to take a sip of the delicious $2,500 per bottle Chateau Raya Chateaunef-du-Pape 2007 I had switched to after polishing off the bottle I had consumed at the auction.

“What was your name, before you were enslaved?” I asked the first girl.

“Anne Powers,” she replied in my voice. “I was a commodities trader from Chicago.”

Norton smiled like a proud father. “Our voice modulation software does wonders. More real than real, isn’t it?”

“What’s my address in New York?” I asked her.

“I own the 90th floor of 432 Park Avenue, overlooking Central Park,” she said.

I looked down at myself disapprovingly. “Oh, you are a filthy little piggy, aren’t you?” I said, “Kneeling there, with your little hoo-haa hanging out for all the men to look at. Tsk-tsk-tsk, no modesty at all.”

My Gucci sandal shoes were open toe, which allowed me to run my red painted toe directly over the snatch of the next girl. “Look at you, all wet and ready to go! Are you getting all randy, being in the presence of a free woman?” I teased.

“I am always ready to serve, Mistress,” she said in my voice.

I paused at number three, looking down at her critically. “She does look like me, although her butt’s a bit chubby. Maybe you send this one off to the races. Nothing wrong with her fat ass a pony lash couldn’t cure.”

They didn’t dare look up at me, as there are few things more terrifying for a slave girl than a powerful, well dressed free woman able to determine their fate. Taking the slave whip of Skeeter’s belt, I used the tip to lift up their chins, and turned their heads to-and-fro, as I examined them closely. They might look like me, but I was still in charge.

I assessed number four with a critical eye. “She’s a little flat on top, isn’t she? I mean, sort of boyish? I know! You can make her a cabin boy. She’ll look so cute in her short pants and sailor uniform. And the men will so enjoy taking her below deck to bugger that tight little bottom of hers.”

It was bizarre, but also thrilling, walking up and down the row of replicas. I was reminded of an infinity mirror, as I seemed to be looking at an endless recursions of naked slave girl images of myself.

I stopped in front of a girl, naked, head bowed, who made me wonder if my mother hadn’t had a twin. She looked exactly like me, and even had the same small mole on her neck.

“Get up on the table, slave girl,” I snapped. “Like a dog.”

The girl obediently scampered up onto the examination table, on all fours. Placing my wine glass on the small of her back to hold her in position, I did a slow walk around the table, examining her with a gimlet eye.

“Show me your SIN number,” I said.

Being careful not to spill my wine, she held used her thumbs to raise her upper lip, so I could read the number tattooed on the inside of her mouth.

“Don’t worry, it’s a different SIN number than yers, Anna-Annie,” Skeeter said, as if reading my mind. “But otherwise, she’s a dead-ringer.”

“I’m taller than her,” I said sharply.

“That’s cuz yer’ wearing heels,” Skeeter said. Looking down at my feet, I saw that Skeeter was right, and the difference in height was accounted for by the heels on my sandals. Worse, the little slut was wearing red toe polish identical to mine.

It was incredibly exciting, if dizzying, and I felt my pussy buzz as I looked at myself on the examination table. I was both the Mistress and the slave, the owner and the owned.

I walked behind her and ran my fingers over the raised scar of her doodle bug brand. Like, mine, it appeared to be 3-D, and gripping her bottom. When I jiggled her butt cheeks with the tip of my whip, the bug seemed to move. Like the brand that I myself wore, the craftsmanship was extraordinary.

It was an odd sensation. I loved my brand, and was proud of it as a work of art. I had often admired it in the mirror, but now I was seeing afresh, as I was able to run my fingers over it, and appreciate it in a way I never had.

“How did you get the brand so perfect?” Skeeter asked. “I thought Professor Atkins was the only one who could brand something that complicated.”

“Professor Atkins belongs to The International Brotherhood of Slave Blacksmiths,” Norton explained. “He was quite proud of his accomplishment and wrote an article about Miss Power’s brand in their online professional journal, THE FORGE.”

I blushed a bit, realizing that my brand—along with my ass!--had been reduced to an article in a trade journal for sweaty, blue collar, union workers. I felt a twinge between my legs at the thought of brutish, muscular blacksmiths – and men who just enjoyed branding girl’s butts - admiring my doodle bug. Professor Atkin’s was right – my butt was his canvas, and my brand his Mona Lisa.

“Nice work,” I allowed, “but I’m still the original.”

Using the tip of the whip I tapped the inside of her thighs, indicating I wanted her spread her legs. She obeyed, being careful not to spill my wine.

As her butt cheeks spread, she revealed The Big D logo branded on the inside of her butt cheek. It was in the exact place as mine, and indistinguishable. Again, I had the bizarre sensation of examining myself at an angle I could never possibly see myself at.

Her pussy looked like mine, down to the last wrinkle. Breathing in, I realized her excitement even smelled like mine.

Was there something about my birth that my mother hadn’t told me? When I had been growing up, one of Rita’s wry reposts was, “Well, at least I don’t gotta deal with two of ya’!” Did her joke mean more than she was letting on? Did I have a twin, who had been separated from my mother at birth, and had now fallen on hard times, and become a slave girl?

No, no, that couldn’t be. My twin would never sink this low. Appearances aside, this girl was nothing like me.

Continuing my slow walk around, I stopped in front of her, and looked her in the eyes, staring deeply. I examined her closely, looking for some difference in our mirror image. There was nothing. On her face, I saw the hint of a smile.

Furious, I went around behind her, and brought the whip down on her ass, which was, of course, a perfect replica of my own. “Slut! Spreading your legs for men! Don’t you have any control? You’re disgusting.”

She cried out in pain as I whipped her ass with gusto, as my wine glass tipped and landed on the table.

“Clumsy slut,” I snapped. “Do you know how much that wine is worth?”

Before I could bring down the second stroke, Skeeter grabbed my arm. “Stop it, Anna-Annie. It’s not her fault. You’re just angry because she reminds you of you the day you were auctioned off. Professor Hollister calls it ‘projective slave loathing.’”

I had read about projective slave loathing, a psychosis where free women come to loath and despise Pleasure Sluts for revealing their suppressed desires. “I don’t need my smarty pants nephew from a 3rd rate community college playing psychiatrist,” I snapped. “This girl’s nothing like me. Any man of quality, looking at us, would understand that I’m not a slave girl.”

“I didn’t say they wouldn’t,” Skeeter replied, gently taking the whip out of my hands. “Just stop whipping her butt, that’s all.”

“We should really recollar them,” Rebecca said.

“They’re already collared,” Norton said. “All of our girls wear the stainless-steel blue collars of Legendary Slavers.”

“Rebecca’s right,” I said. “We want this to be seen as a gift from Jake at The Big D. Get their collars off, Norton, so we can get their new collars on.”

Norton used his phone app to unlock each girl’s collars, collecting them, as Skeeter quickly brought out a box of collars with The Big D logo on them.

“I paid for them,” I said. “I want to collar them. We’ll start with this little bitch on the table. “Show us your SIN.”

Again, the girl peeled back her upper lip to reveal her number. Skeeter scanned the inside of the girl’s lip and received a satisfied BEEP in return.

Skeeter then scanned the girl’s collar, attaching it to the girl’s SIN. A slightly different BEEP signaled that the SIN was now tied to the collar.

“Collar position,” I ordered.

The girl pulled her long hair back, exposing her long neck. Growing up, Rita had called me the giraffe, and even now I felt my neck was too long. My slave girl twin had the same hated feature.

I squeezed my thighs together with pleasure as I SNAPPED the collar around her throat, locking it into place.

Cupping the little slut’s chin, and I looked directly into her eyes.

“Welcome to The Big D,” I said, grinning.

I ordered the slut off the table, to rejoin her sisters in line. The procedure was repeated, with Skeeter scanning in each girl’s SIN to tie it to their collars, and me LOCKING their collars around their long necks.

“Welcome to The Big D.”

“Welcome to The Big D.”

Stepping back, I surveyed my handiwork with satisfaction. “I’d like a video of them as a group,” I said. “Piled on top of each other, slave fucking each other, like slave girls do. We can send a copy of it along with the girls to our six bidders. Can you arrange the cameras, Rebecca?”

“Not a problem, Miss Powers,” she replied. Like her boss, Rebecca was eager to please. “But I couldn’t help but notice, we’re one girl short.”

I did a quick head count. Rebecca was right. We have five girls, not six.

Norton seemed to hedge. “Oh, yes, about that. Apparently, one of the Annies from London got rerouted, and we’re having trouble finding her.”

“How long until we can get her back?” Rebecca asked.

“That’s unclear,” Norton said. “We have to find her first. We can try to get another girl that looks like Miss Powers, but that could take a while. We need time for training, and prep.”

I stared Norton down. “This is TOTALLY unacceptable. The six other Pleasure Sluts I bought are crated up and ready to go. I want to send the girls together, as a pair. Six bidders, twelve girls. I don’t have time for incompetence and bullshit.”

“Maybe we could send one girl later,” Skeeter offered.

“Don’t be stupid, Skeeter,” I shot back. “These guys are suing, and they all talk. If we leave one of them out, he’ll be pissed. And I don’t want to wait until the bozos at Legends pull their shit together, because I’ve already waited too long, and I’m trying to nip this lawsuit before Jake is consumed by legal fees. This is UNACCEPTABLE.”

Eager to avoid my ire, Rebecca excused herself to get the video equipment.

“I’m sorry, Miss Powers,” Norton offered. “If you want a refund…”

I wasn’t having it. “Damn right, I want a refund, and I’ll have your ass after I buy your sorry company and fire your dumb ass. You’ve messed with the wrong girl.”

“Please, you have to understand. You’re asking the impossible. Where am I going to find a Pleasure Slut that looks like you?”

Skeeter, stroking his chin, got a sideways grin as he offered a suggestion. “I know a girl who looks like you,” he offered.

“Seriously?” I asked. “Can I get her tonight, so we can make the shipment?”

“Not a problem,” he said.

“Is she slave hot, and fully trained?” I asked.

“One of the hottest pieces of slave tail I’ve ever had. Rated Prime Minus.”

“Can we get her branded? With the Doodle bug, I mean?”

“Already done,” he said, smiling.

“What do you mean it’s already done?” I said, genuinely dumbfounded.

“It would only be for 3 months, Anna-Annie,” Skeeter said. “Nobody checks a slave girl’s SIN number against what her name was, since slave girls don’t have names no more. All they’ll know is that she’ll look like you. 3 months is nothing! The time will fly by!”

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

Samuel Norton jumped in, as if I wanted his opinion. “With all due respect, son, I have to agree. We have standards. Being a Legendary Slave isn’t simply about looking like a celebrity. Obviously, you look like you. But to be a legend, you have to have a body that is, well, legendary.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Norton, she does,” Skeeter said. “She’s been graded Prime Minus.“

“We’re not interested in USDA grades. We set our own standards, son.”

Norton, turning to me, oozed unctuous faux charm. “Miss Powers, you are obviously intelligent, extremely articulate, and highly accomplished. You are a highly attractive young lady. But let’s be frank. You can’t hope to compete with one of these girls. We offer fantasy versions of reality. You’re not Legendary Slave quality.”

“Says who?” I protested. “Are you saying I’m not hot enough?”

“It’s not meant as an insult. Our standards are extraordinary. You are the client, but as a representative of Legends, I’m responsible for quality assurance, and the final judge in these matters. We can’t send just anyone. I’m afraid I must object.”

Skeeter’s suggestion that I become the 90-day fuck-bunny for one of the six men who despised me was, without a doubt, the dumbest thing that had ever come out of his adolescent mouth. But this slimy flesh monger’s unsubtle insinuation that I was not up to the standards of one of his skanky look-alikes totally pissed me off.

Sensing my mounting anger, Skeeter suggested a way to put Norton in his place. “Anna Annie, I do believe this fine gentleman just challenged the grading standards here at The Big D. Do you care to provide evidence in response to the judge’s objection?”

“I do, indeed,” I said, staring Norton down. “Challenge accepted, Mr. Norton. Skeeter, hold my beer.”

Dropping my Armani shoulder bag and kicking off my Gucci sandals, I reached for the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head with a single fluid motion, revealing that I was entirely naked. Taking my clothes and bag, Skeeter placed them on a chair by a pair of swinging doors.

I did a slow, slave girl turn in front of the gob smacked Norton, showing him my perfect, naked body. “See?” I said, showing him my perfect ass, “I even have a little doodle bug! Isn’t it adorable?” I said, tapping it with my finger.

Norton was in shock. My nephew, grinning broadly, was loving every minute of Norton’s shock.

“Do you have a Big D logo, Anna Annie?” Skeeter teased. “The other girls all have Big D logos. Ya’ gotta have one of those!” he reminded me.

“I do!” I said, smiling broadly.

“Prove it,” Skeeter replied.

Smiling, I bent over, spreading my legs as I thrust my ass up in the air. Slowly, my butt cheeks parted like a theatrical curtain, revealing the mark of quality, the coveted logo of The Big D.

Skeeter let out a slow wolf whistle. “Ayn’t that a beauty!” he said, appreciatively. “Heck, I can see all the way to Christmas! And that, Mr. Norton, is the mark of quality. Slave present, Anna-Annie.”

I walked over to the other girls, and sank to my knees. Locking my fingers behind my head, I spread my legs widely, adding a sixth Annie to the row of Annies.

Looking up at Norton, I smiled triumphantly. “What do you say, your honor?” I asked. “Objection sustained?”

“I was wrong. Objection overruled,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Norton was in the business, of course, so I wasn’t his first naked girl. However, for the last hour he had seen me in charge, and in control. I was the sort of untouchable princess men might fantasize about enslaving, but never could. That’s what made me so hot. The rapidness of my transformation from sophisticated 1-percenter to naked kneeling Pleasure Slut had left Norton stunned, lost in the glare of my pointy headlights.

“She’s a beauty all right,” Norton allowed. “But is she trained?”

“Fuck you, Norton,” I said.

“It’s a fair question, Miss Powers,” he said. “Legends has rigorous standards for all our merchandise.”

Skeeter looked down at me. “Show ‘em, Anna-Annie,” he said.

I reached down, and began teasing my nipples, until they were pointy hard. Reaching between my legs, I began to finger myself. Closing my eyes, I moaned as I humped my hand.

Oh, it felt good! I hadn’t been able to touch myself all day, and I was desperate for release. I had gone through the excitement of being back at The Big D, the thrill of buying six slave girls at the auction, and the bizarre ritual of collaring five naked slave girl versions of myself. Can you blame me for riding my fingers like a pony?

It is said that it is the nature of a slave girl to test her master. Skeeter was wearing his big cowboy hat, with his fancy doodle bug logo shoes and belt that I had bought for him. Remembering him over my knee, it was impossible for me to take him seriously. He didn’t look like my master, but rather like a teenager playing cowboy.

Feeling puckish, I gave him my best slave girl pout. “Master,” I said, “I did something very naughty. I reversed the one-way trip. I walked up the steps of the auction block. I knew the steps weren’t for me, but I used them anyway.”

Skeeter had seen me on the block, of course, and had thought nothing of it. The room was empty, and the unfinished roughhewn steps leading up to the sand covered dais were hardly forbidden. It was no different than walking onto a stage in an empty hotel ballroom, or lecture hall. There was nothing to confess, really.

Skeeter immediately picked up on my playful challenge to his authority. When I had gone up those steps, I was Anne Powers, a filthy rich investor with her wallet wide open. Now I was a hot, naked slave girl with her pussy wide open. With a hard slap on their bottom, slave girls entered the auction block from the cattle chute on the left, sprinting across the stage to be sold. After the gavel fell, they went down the steps, their asses smarting from the crack of the auctioneer’s whip.

Like all the rules for the slave girls, the procedure was crisp and clear. I had disobeyed and reversed the flow. Bad, bad slave girl!

“I’m glad I did it,” I said, rubbing my snatch. “It shows what a clever slave girl I am. All the other slave girls enter the block from the cattle chute, moo-moo! Clever me gets to use the steps, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I turned my one way into a round trip. Girls with platinum cards have more fun.”

I groaned with pleasure as I quickened my pace, driving myself to orgasm. I was close, but I also wanted it to last. It wasn’t to entertain Norton, Skeeter, or anyone else. This one was for me.

Being a clever slave girl, I didn’t need Doctor Veronica’s vet bag to emasculate my feckless nephew. Smiling at him, I made it clear that he was still putty in my manicured hands.

“Is that JP Morgan Reserve Card, the one you need a million in the bank to get, in your purse?” Skeeter said.

“Of course,” I said. “I never leave home without it. And it’s $10 million… brainiac.”

I half whispered “brainiac”, more as a tease than insolence. Maybe.

“Fetch it,” he said.

“Let me finish first,” I said, leaning back as I rubbed myself to slave-gasm.

“No. Crawl over there on your knees, and bring it back to me. And no hands. Use your teeth.”

I smiled. So, my little cowboy wanted to play, did he? I’d show him. It took some effort to open my fancy purse with my teeth, but Norton and Skeeter didn’t mind if it meant they could watch me wiggle my ass as I dug it out with my “snout”.

Playing the mischievous puppy role to the hilt, I crawled over and put my paws up as I offered it up to my master, deliberately adding as much slobber as I could. Frowning, he wiped his hand on my hair.

“Let’s see what ya’ got, slave girl,” he said. “Turn around. Tail up, legs spread.”

I obeyed.

“Wider,” he said. “Show us that little brown starfish. Yeah, split those butt cheeks, wide. Show everyone what you had for breakfast.”

I obeyed, raising my pink anus high as I put my head down.

“So, what can you buy with this credit card, slave girl?”

“Anything,” I giggled. “I could buy this whole place, with you in it. There’s no limit.”

I tensed as he put the corner of the card against my exposed bunghole. “No limit, huh? Slave girls don’t get credit cards, brainiac. So, I’m going to stuff this right up your HOLE place.”

The JP Morgan Platinum Reserve Card is made of Palladium, which gives it a real stiffness. Still, I was amazed when Skeeter actually managed to jam it up my ass, not stopping until only the tip was showing.

Like all slave girls who test their master’s limits, I realized too late how foolish I had been. “I’m sorry, Master,” I said. “I will never use the steps again, I swear!”

“No, you won’t,” he said. “Next time, you’ll use the chute. And don’t think my mom’s going to step in and save you next time, because she’s getting sick of yer’ shit, too.”

“Please, master, it's too big,” I whined, wincing as I tried to shit out the card. "Take it out."

“You giving me orders, slave girl? Still topping from below, huh? Fine, let’s give the LADY what she wants.”

I hyperventilated as my nephew took the whip off his belt and shook it out.

“So would you like to get a little demonstration of my award winning, slave rodeo whipping technique, Mr. Norton?”

I gave a little cry, too scared to even speak. “I’d love to,” Norton replied.

CRACK!

Skilled as he was, the card was so far up my ass that Skeeter’s expert shot only pulled it out without fully dislodging it. Unfortunately, it also hit me in a spot no slave girl wants to feel the whip.

“Glad it didn’t break the card,” Skeeter said. “Otherwise, I could be snapping this whip against her rear doorbell all night.”

Before I could even cry out in alarm at the thought of it, the second crack of the whip yanked the card out of my bottom and into the air. A third crack cut into the impervious card, and shot it high in the air, while the final crack finally cut my card in half.

“Impressive!” Norton said. “If you ever need a job, son, please give me a call.”

“That’s mighty flatterin’, Mr. Norton, coming from a fine gentleman like you, but I love my work at The Big D.”

My limitless credit was in ruins, along with my tortured asshole. The self-congratulatory circle jerk was interrupted as the swinging doors burst open and Rebecca flew in, followed by a man pulling a four-wheel mesh gorilla cart. The slave monger was in his early twenties, and was wearing yellow coveralls with The Big D logo. Taking the cameras out of the cart, he quickly set them up on tripods, arranging them in a circle.

Rebecca chuckled when she spotted me weeping, with my ass in the air.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked.

“She got a little lippy,” Skeeter said. “Nothing that will affect her price.. Back in position, slave girl.”

Embarrassed by the painful truth of Skeeter’s impost, I quickly resumed my position and put my hands on my head like the other girls. Indifferent to my tears, Rebecca slowly walked down the line of slave girls kneeling before her.

“Excellent!” she said brightly. “It looks like the sixth one has arrived. That’s good news. We should get her collared, though. Come on, up on the table.”

I looked to Skeeter, who merely smiled back at me, wondering how I would solve the conundrum. Would I identify myself to the bossy little accountant, and try to explain why I was naked on the floor, rubbing my hot, sticky twat? Or would I play along with the mistake and cover my true identity.

I rose, and scampered up on the table. My breath came in short gasps as Rebecca did a slow walk around the table, evaluating my naked body with the same critical gaze I had used a few minutes before, when evaluating my twin.

“Not bad,” she said. “Which one of the perverts is going to get her?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Skeeter said.

Rebecca stopped in front of me. She was smiling, but it was a very different smile than she gave me when she was trying to flatter me. This was more of a grin, the smile of the cat who had corned the mouse.

“Show me your SIN,” she said.

Feeling queasy, I peeled back my upper lip to reveal my slave tattoo.

My heart skipped a beat as Skeeter BEEPED my number into the system. It skipped again when Skeeter casually retrieved a collar from the box, and scanned it, the BEEP signifying that my SIN was now tied into inventory.

Skeeter handed the collar to Rebecca and clipped his scanner back to his belt. Walking over to the door, he took my clothes and bag and put them in the gorilla cart.

“Collar position,” Rebecca said.

I pulled my hair back, and lowered my head, exposing my long, slender neck. I squeezed my thighs, nearly coming as she SNAPPED the collar around my throat, locking it into place.

Cupping my chin, Rebecca looked directly into her eyes.

“Welcome to The Big D,” she said, grinning.

Skeeter said something to the guy in the yellow coveralls, and he nodded. I watched unhappily as my dress, shoes, bag, ID, and JP Morgan Reserve card disappeared through the swinging doors.

“Okay, Miss Powers wants a movie of all you girls together,” Rebecca said. I want you to pile up into that circle in the center of the cameras and go at it. Come on, you know the drill!”

Rebecca spanked my ass hard, ordering me to “join the others, sweetie. Into the dogpile.”

I crawled into the pile of lesbian look-a-like slave girls, and began licking, caressing, and moaning. As I pleasured them, and they pleasured me. Repositioning myself, I managed to work my tongue into the pussy of the girl who had seemed to be my twin, and returning the favor, she began to finger me, even as I used my hands to caress one girl’s breasts and finger fuck another.

I took a moment to relish the sensation of being just another naked slave girl in a sea of naked slave girls, a drop of water in an ocean of slave pussy all under the stern eyes of free people. It was strangely liberating, to mix in with the others, and to submerge your identity into a role where you always knew exactly what was expected of you.

Girls know how to tease and please without rushing you to orgasm. All of us took our time. If it wasn’t for the fully dressed people watching us, and the camera’s filming us like we were in cheap Mexican sex service, it might actually have been fun.

I lost myself in carnal bliss, until the sound of spurs hitting the cement signaled the arrival of Jake. I shuddered; I didn’t want my new business partner to see me this way!

No, I was safe. If I played along, he’d never know. Could I really fool him? Could I really pass for a Legend under Jake’s discerning gaze?

Ignoring the pile of naked writing slave girls, Jake turned to Skeeter. “We got the Prime Pussy your aunt bought packaged up and in a Southwest shipping truck on my loading dock. Somebody said we were waiting because we were one Legend short,” Jake said. “You gotta fix?”

“Already fixed,” Skeeter said, noting the pile of naked lesbian slave meat with a tilt of his head.

The slave monger in the coveralls returned down another aisle, driving a forklift with crates labeled SOUTHWEST SHIPPING. Our ride was here.

“Good. Is this the cargo we’re shipping?” Jake asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Skeeter replied. “They’re collared, scanned in, and ready to roll.”

Jake walked over and took a closer look at the dog pile of naked Pleasure Sluts, writhing together as we caressed, rubbed, and licked each other’s naked bodies, moving as one.
“That’s really something,” Jake said, clearly impressed. “They really do look like your aunt. Except that one on the end, with her ass in the air. Her doodle bug brand looks a little faded. Merle’s working today, if we got time, you might want to stick a bit in her mouth and take her over to the forge, and get her brand freshened up.”

“We got time,” Rebecca said, glancing at her watch. “I’ll take her over.”

“I think she heard ya, Jake,” Skeeter chuckled. “She’s clenching her butt cheeks.”

My butt cheeks did indeed clench, and soon began to quiver, much to the amusement of the men staring at my perfectly toned, perfect body.

Jake didn’t realize who I was. I was just another hot piece of slave ass. Norton said nothing. I was saving him a refund.

I wondered where my clothes were. It didn’t matter. I was naked, collared and scanned into the system, ready to be shipped. I was now one of the girls.

The relentlessly teasing tongue between my legs had driven me the brink, but it was the realization that I was just another naked bitch in the dogpile, and Jakes casual observation that my doodle bug brand should be “freshened”, drove me over the edge.

I couldn’t object, of course. What was there to discuss? A few minutes before Jake had wanted me to be his business partner. Now, he ordered my butt branded in the same tone he used to tell the guy in the coveralls to take out the trash.

I didn’t want to be branded… sort of. I knew the pain would be excruciating, particularly atop my old brand. Having Scooter’s childish doodle burned into my ass a second time was unspeakably humiliating. But the knowledge that it was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, and that I was helpless to resist, was incredibly hot—one of the hidden highs of being a slave.

I wondered if burning a temporary atop a temporary brand would make the brand permanent. Probably, but no matter. It was not the sort of question a slave girl could ask, and I would find out in a few months.

Which one of the perverts was going to get me? What would they do to me? Again, it wasn’t my place to ask. I would find out soon enough.

I could feel them all staring up between my legs. My slave-gasm began, washing over me in waves, as the men behind me laughed at my disgrace.

“She’s coming.”
“No dignity at all.”
“Her pussy is jigging like jello.”
“She’s winking her asshole at us.”
“Yeah. The little slut is itching for the branding iron.”

I didn’t want to shame myself in front of them, but I couldn’t stop. Since the first time since Rita had freed me, I found myself between swept away by the multifaceted layers of an epic slave-gasm. I had no idea what awaited me, but I knew the next three months were going to be very interesting, indeed.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!!
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Carl Bradford »

A fitting end (as in branded rear end) to a superb story. Now I can fantasize about enslaved Annie fulfilling the carnal plans of any of those frustrated bidders--being the fox who is hunted and made air tight by male slave "dogs," being the pants-less cabin girl servicing various guests on a yacht, etc, etc. Fantastic as always, Mr. Doe!
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Hagenherz »

Frohe Weihnachten an alle und ein paar sinnliche Festtage.

Sehr cool geschrieben, Reiche arme Annie

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

Joe: Merry Christmas. Loved the whole story and i too wonder where Annie will end up although you previously had written that she destroyed most of her rivals and former bidders. My only question is did Rita ever revoke her POA Annie gave her?
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by dtrelsky »

The dog pile was a great move! I'm sure Annie is going to enjoy watching that video for many years to come. I like to think her touch up branding wouldn't end up making it permanent. I have found the adding of temporary brandings to be great addition to the setting. While it isn't permanent it lasts for months and really gives the opportunity to try out different designs.
I really liked Rebecca coming back in and immediately treating Annie as just another one of the look-a-likes, though I also found myself wondering if she maybe figured it out but didn't say anything, after all she was only gone a couple minutes and where did Annie go? She certainly seemed to enjoy collaring her in the exact same manner she'd just waatched the other five recieve theirs.

The retribution on her enemies was fun but selling Mr. Choo's daughter so she would disappear seemed a bit over the top compared to the consequences the others had to deal with. On the other hand what she did to Elizabeth was great. Hot and short term, but no one will be forgetting it happened.

I was thinking that after the three months is up Annie might buy whichever of her dopplegangers aren't just doing an indenture. I think she'd have a lot of fun with them, while their existence would allow her to have adventures in the future whenever she wants. She could even have one make appearances dressed and acting as her(under Rita's control probably) to make sure people can never be sure when they see a Pleasure Slut Annie if its the original or not. Rita and family would really need to move to Chicago to help keep things from getting completely out of control though.

I've always liked the idea of the slave that looks just like the free woman and the possibilities it creates.

There is a story I read on Literotica years back called Teamora, set in a medieval sort of world where all whores were naked all the time, the wife of a nobleman hires a whore according to his tastes, looks just like her. Unfortunately the story wasn't very long, but I still like to read it again once in a while.

Back on topic, thanks for the great story with a great conclusion!
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Belinda »

Merry Christmas Joe, Carl, and all of you.

Such marvelous Christmas present. A wonderful piece of work, Joe you so uderstand the slave mind of a successful woman. Just exquisite.

Thank you so much and again Merry Christmas.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

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Merry Christmas back at you, and thank you for the very kind comments. Special thanks to Carl for editing, suggestions, and especially encouraging me to finally finish a story!

I hadn't thought of Anne keeping an Annie handy, but that might be interesting.

The POA was never revoked, as Anne wisely thought Rita had her best interests at heart, and would protect her, and it was a good safeguard to have given her taste for playing slave girl. However the fact that Rita might also be willing to play along and push Annie's buttons, and put her in all sorts of delicious situations, "for her own good." The sisters never spoke of it, but it remained in place for possible future use. Having such a powerful tool in her toolbox pleased Rita and excited Anne/Annie.

Annie being punished for going up the steps was a reaction to Belinda's comment that she liked the "one way trip" reference. A lot of the story was inspired by suggestions and comments, and wouldn't have been finished without the likes and encouragement. So thank you one and all, and Merry Christmas. :tiphat:
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by butterballgurl »

What an epic series...thank you! I love it all, realizing this story could continue indefinitely with all the possibilities. I do like the Rebecca character and see possibilities there, especially if the spectacle she observed got her thinking. Kudos and bravo.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Mr. Smith »

If I recall there was a poll where the readers voted and the most popular outcome for Anne was becoming the fox in one of Lord Kensignton's famed fox hunts. I would love to see how Joe would approach this story and what role Elizabeth might have in it. Especially if Elizabeth ever figured out who was responsible for her becoming a fox in one of her father's hunts.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by imreadonly2 »

Yes, I have story ideas for Rebecca, who is also an interesting character.

Lord Kensington's hunt does seem to be quite popular, and as I prepared the next chapter for Literotica I added a few sentences to Hercules evaluating Annie on the block, as well as this passage to Elizabeth's discussion of her possible participation in her father's favorite hobby.

"But what if you got caught?" he Chinese friend asked.

“I wouldn't. I had a whole strategy and route plan all worked out. I told father all about it, and said that he admired my pluck, but that I shouldn’t get my hopes up, as the dogs are quite sensitive to smell, as if I can’t outsmart a pack of sniffy dogs!”

Then father got quite stern, and said that if I went through with this, he didn’t want me to embarrass him, as if me running naked through the woods with a fox head fastened around my face and a fox tail hanging out of my butt was somehow embarrassing to HIM. He said the night before the hunt he was going to treat me “like any other fox”, which meant I was going to have to sleep outside in the kennels where he keeps Lady, and Daisy, and Zoe, and the other dogs he uses for breeding. I complained that it’s frosty cold at night, but he assured me if 'snuggled up close with the other bitches' I’d be fine.”


I actually left out the last paragraph, as I wasn't sure if Literotica would object, as they can be quite prickly.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by jeepster »

I've wanted to see Rebecca get a just reward since she appeared on the scene! As for the fox hunt OMFG yes bring it on!

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Mr. Smith »

The key with Literotica is to avoid any overt beastiality. I got a couple of paragraphs through describing a slave girl fox hunt and Avvy described a version of a slave girl fox hunt in greater detail. Your proposed paragraph could be interpreted a couple of ways so I would think you are safe but then again the Lit censors lack consistency. So far I have only had one rejection and all I did in response was write out "eighteen year old" before any scene where the character's age was in question since I was dealing with a high school girl.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by imreadonly2 »

Here's what I submitted to Literotica. It's ambiguous, I think.

“I don’t know," she said. "Which one father buys is really up to Hercules.”

I gasped. While I could not make out the faces, I spotted Hercules, the enormous Great Dane, in the front row of the VIP box. Lord Kensington was sitting in a large, throne like chair but Hercules pointy ears were taller than his master. His pink tongue was dangling out of his mouth, and he was all slobber. He was also all muscle, and his head was the size of a fruit crate. I wondered what sort of advance start the foxes got, for any race between the horse like dog and a naked slave girl would be no contest at all.

Because of the railing, I could only see Hercules from his large, panting chest up. Lord Kensington looked to Hercules, and then to me, tugging on the leash as if to ask Hercules if he liked what he saw. I breathed a sigh of relief, as the dog, never breaking his gaze, didn’t move an inch.

Leaning forward, Lord Kensington looked down at the floor in front of the enormous animal. Had he dropped his program? Was he checking to see if Hercules had eaten a doggie treat, or looking at the pool of slobber in front of the large, drooling animal?

Lord Kensington smiled inscrutably, leaned back in his chair, and raised his hand to bid on me.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

Merry christmas.

A wonderful story, when I saw it on Literotica, I dug through the Internet until I found reddit and this site. (Thanks to Carl Bradford for the hint that the story has already been completed).

It is a pity, however, that, for me personally, there was not enough drama with Rita. It would be interesting to see a person (in this case, Rita) who brought someone who is dear to him to "play" like this and thought that everything was under his control, but in fact everything went wrong. And at the same time, how people with "professional deformation" change.
For example, after the auction, Skeeter and Roscoe do not perceive Ann as they used to, and moreover, they do not even call her anything other than a whore and a slave. When he went to talk about whether to sell Ann or cancel the deal, and Rita playfully asked Skeeter his opinion, he told her in all seriousness to take the deal, because, firstly, the whores sold from the auction, even if it is "Any Chance" completely enslaved whores and , secondly, because he has already received an additional third of the amount of the winning bid, as he told the buyer that the slave was put up for sale by his family and he can influence the fact that the transaction takes place exactly. And what's interesting at the moment is the psychological impact on Rita, who just thought to give Ann a thrill and scare her, not just leaving her in a cage for the night. Who encouraged her son when he humiliated and sold Ann, who herself humiliated Ann during the sale. But now she sees the real face of her husband and son and understands that in fact, from the moment she started communicating with Kaliko, she lost control over the situation and she was simply taken through all the stages to the full result. And how she really hesitates and does not dare and tries to apologize to Ann (to which the husband and son laugh and say that there is nothing to apologize to the slaves, they have no feelings and regrets), she is afraid, but in the end under the insistence and persuasion of her son and husband accepts the deal. After that, ignoring Rita's state of mind, Skeeter thanks her for coming up with the brilliant decision to include "This Whore" in the auction, and that it was her decision that led to his tremendous success. And here is another Rita's dilemma, on the one hand, she is upset that instead of what she agreed with Ann and joked about (nothing permanent), she framed her sister and actually sold her with joy and pride for her son.
Well, at the same time, the state and reaction of Ann, who heard all this and understood that she herself was to blame for something, when she persuaded Roscoe and Skeeter to still put her up for sale, although later it turns out from the text that "Rita thought at first that Rostko was all it will be canceled when he sees Ann", but he was not even going to do this, even if he saw Rita herself in Ann's place. And the whole performance before the auction was just so that Ann would not interfere with the auctioneer during the sale, and moreover, that the decision that Skeeter would be the Auctioneer was made long before Ann suggested it.
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

Or vice versa, everything is only around Ann and her feelings, when, after Skeeter’s words, Rita accepts the deal without question, and later, from the conversation of Ann’s friend’s family, she understands that the decision to sell her was very old and that Rita had been thinking in her head for a very long time go to The Big D just for that purpose. Which, of course, she did not voice, and that she knew about the auction that day and its importance, and that is why she brought Ann to this place and did everything in such a way that she was chosen for the auction, but at the same time she herself did everything not to give herself away and play to the last the role of a loving older sister who was deceived by evil people. It was because she had planned all this from the very beginning that she remorselessly fastened the collar of eternity and pierced Ann's ear with a tag, which, in fact, was not required.

P.S. (it's not PlayStation)

I really liked the idea with the collar of eternity, only the conditions for it were also a little lacking.

By its name and action, it can also be fixed (at least for the following stories) that as soon as such a collar is put on, a person is enslaved for the rest of his life, his number falls into a special database of "eternity" and from the moment the collar is fixed, no one can remove it, even justice. In other words, when Rita put on such a collar for Ann, she understood that there would be no turning back on that road.

And once again merry christmas everyone

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Carl Bradford »

Interesting ideas, Eug, but my attention was seized by Joe's description of the dog Hercules.

Seventy years ago, the comic song writer Tom Lehrer came up with a throw-away line about a college friend of his who "majored in Animal Husbandry--Until they caught him at it." Now Joe hinted (perhaps it's just my twisted mind) that Slave Annie might study Animal Wifery, if you will--perhaps using real dogs for the fox hunt? The reality would be gross, but just the image represents a new low, even for Joe's protagonists, in female submission and degradation. I never cease to be amazed at Joe's lurid creativity! Makes me hope, again, that some day Joe will write a sequel in which Anne, pretending to be one of her look-alike Slave Annies, experiences submission to each of the frustrated bidders at the original Any Chance Auction, as if she were a designated substitute for the other girls. We can but dream. . .
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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by jeepster »

Well Carl I love the substitute idea! And you have Joe's ear.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

I'm sorry, Carl, at the moment I've only read what is on Literotica and Riddit, I just started to those chapters that are here. It's hard for me to discuss any of this yet, however, it was mentioned in the "postscriptum" that Chu likes to watch white women give birth in the state of monkeys. I wonder Ann will go for it too?

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

Greetings.

Well, I read this story in one fell swoop from 16 to 22 chapters.
The story turned out to be wonderful and indeed, many of the ideas that were born in my mind when I read it were implemented.
Luckily, the ending doesn't feel like an ending, and therefore my question is, is it possible to continue?

Thank you Joe for such elaborate stories.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

imreadonly2 wrote: Sun Dec 25, 2022 4:09 pm Merry Christmas back at you, and thank you for the very kind comments. Special thanks to Carl for editing, suggestions, and especially encouraging me to finally finish a story!

I hadn't thought of Anne keeping an Annie handy, but that might be interesting.

The POA was never revoked, as Anne wisely thought Rita had her best interests at heart, and would protect her, and it was a good safeguard to have given her taste for playing slave girl. However the fact that Rita might also be willing to play along and push Annie's buttons, and put her in all sorts of delicious situations, "for her own good." The sisters never spoke of it, but it remained in place for possible future use. Having such a powerful tool in her toolbox pleased Rita and excited Anne/Annie.

Annie being punished for going up the steps was a reaction to Belinda's comment that she liked the "one way trip" reference. A lot of the story was inspired by suggestions and comments, and wouldn't have been finished without the likes and encouragement. So thank you one and all, and Merry Christmas. :tiphat:
Greetings

I have a question about POV. As far as I heard about legal topics, POV cannot be permanent, it has its own time limits (1 year, 2 years, and in some cases up to 5 years), please correct me if not. And what if, with such entertainment, the POV expires in the process.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

To correct you its a POA, Power of Attorney, and Anne gave Rita complete control over her fortune. There are different types of POAs, and this to my understanding from the text was just financial. It seems like that is the only thing Anne cherishes the most in life and Rita has everything Anne has nothing now and maybe forever. Happy New Year.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

lovethissite wrote: Thu Dec 29, 2022 10:06 am To correct you its a POA, Power of Attorney, and Anne gave Rita complete control over her fortune. There are different types of POAs, and this to my understanding from the text was just financial. It seems like that is the only thing Anne cherishes the most in life and Rita has everything Anne has nothing now and maybe forever. Happy New Year.
Sori, but this POV is not only on the state, but also at the disposal of Ann herself, because Rita used this power of attorney in order to take her to a nursery or put her up for sale.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

I'm missing something POV , is Point Of View, isn't it? POA gives Rita complete control over Anne's fortune please correct me if I'm missing something.

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by Eug »

From the story, I understood that this is the power of attorney, it was just that POV was mentioned above and I did not pay attention to the difference in abbreviations

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Re: Any Chance Auction, Part 22 (Conclusion) By Joe Doe

Post by lovethissite »

No problem just wanted to clarify.

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