Rosie's second auction
Posted: Wed Jul 30, 2025 5:43 pm
[The story includes three illustrations. You need to be logged in to view them]
Rosie’s 2nd auction
“Alright little princess. Time to rise and shine. Your viewers await you”.
I sighed. I hardly could be mistaken for a princess. Naked. Collared. Stored, among three other slaves in a big communal cage.
“Yes Sir. Right away Sir” I answered, with all humility I could master.
I was on my knees, palms up, posed on my thighs, and back straight.
This was the position I was to take at the Roman House, whenever a handler, or anyone that’s not a slave, entered the room I was in.
I crawled out of the cage, making way through my three slave sisters.
I had been grateful to be stored with them last night.
We had pleasured each other for hours.
Orgasms are a slave’s only salary, and the salary needs to be earned.
I didn’t speak to my slave sisters as I pushed them around.
Nor did I made eye contact.
This was forbidden in the presence of a Master.
As I exited the cage and rose to my feet, the handler slapped my ass, appreciatively.
I knew better than to protest. Instead, I thanked him for touching me, with the most sensual voice possible.
“Do you want to fuck me Sir?”, I asked then, spontaneously.
Might as well get him on his good side immediately.
He smiled.
“We don’t have the time for it right now, little whore. But we might after what you are booked for.
I might also give you a treat if you’re good.”.
I smiled back, feigning to be aroused by the prospect of him fucking me.
But it wasn’t this promise that made me salivating right now.
God I wanted some sugar, or slave candy.
It’s been weeks that I’ve only eaten the disgusting slave gruel.
My handler led me outside of the room.
I followed him, hand behind my backs, and looking down.
He hadn’t leashed me, meaning he trusted me to follow him. This was a good sign.
I was led through numerous corridors, and descending 2 floors.
On our way walking, we passed near numerous rooms where slaves and masters were under various activities.
I couldn’t see precisely what they were doing, as I was looking down.
Sometimes I heard pleasure moans, sometimes a voice was begging for orgasm.
Sometimes silence.
Sometimes instead, the terrible sound of the whip reached my ears.
I didn’t try to make sense out of all of it.
Nor did I asked my handler where we were going, or what the hell did he meant by “your viewers are waiting”.
Slaves have questions, but only Masters have answers.
I didn’t even know in what city we were.
Finally we arrived in a desert room.
It looked like all other rooms in this auction house: there was not a lot of light, and walls were either dark, or Grey.
No furniture anyway.
Only thing apart from me and my handler, was the annoying webcam drone that had filmed me since my arrival here.
“Get in the middle of the room, and stand at attention”
I quickly stopped my daydreaming and complied.
Doing so, I glanced at my handler.
He was wearing all black, as all handlers here.
He was tall, had tattoos on his arms.
But also, he was kinda muscular.
Yummy. I’d bang this one before lunch.
Maybe it’s the Horny Juice talking though?
I don’t care.
“Alright viewers. You are 102 with us right now. Former acquaintances, boyfriends, or total strangers, all here together.
Rosie here will answer a few questions about her. Exceptionally, you can ask anything for free over the next 10 minutes.
Don’t shy away from any personal question.
She’s complied to answer truthfully.
With all our internal monitors chipped into her, we’ll know if she lies anyway”
He then directly spoke to me:
“Slave, you are to present yourself to your viewers and prospective bidders. You are to answer all questions I ask in their name, truthfully. Any lie will result in punishment. Do you understand?”
Shit. I didn’t pass through this ordeal the last time at the Roman House, before getting sold.
Yet another humiliation I was gonna experience for the first time.
The video would surely pass among all my former friends, and not so much friends.
God I hope they won’t go TOO personal. I still intend to live a life as a free woman after this.
I didn’t show any surprise though. 2 years at the Celeste Dining Restaurant facing the demands of capricious rich masters had made me learn composure.
So I smiled and tentatively directly looked at the camera.
“Hello Masters and Mistresses. My name is Rosie, or slave #2023871D9A. I’ve been enslaved since 2 years, and have served as a waitress in a luxury restaurant at Las Vegas ever since.
My previous owner has decided to sell me to the highest bidder for the remaining of my slave contract.
So here I am at the Roman House.
I am rated Prime minus, and am certified to be part of the top 5% cock sucker among slaves.
I hope you will give me the honor of worshiping you by buying me”.
Not so bad for a total improvisation, I guess.
My handler directly asked me, without even reading the chat
“So how did you end up enslaved, Rosie?”
Of course you want me to spell it, you bastard.
You guys all love this story.
“Sir, I was a PHD student at the London School of Economics. Specialty in Sociology.
I was caught trying to illegally access the House of Slaver bank database, in order to obtain data for my study.
I’ve been judicially enslaved for 6 years, to repay the House of Slaver losses, and learn my true place among my superiors.”
There. I’m a former liberal, and abolitionist. You pervs can humiliate me for this all you want without consequence. Happy?
“So as you see, guys, this little princess is pretty smart. Surely smarter than all of us.
Might be how she’s so good with her tongue at cock sucking.
Her pretty little brain can adapt to all situations”, joked my handler to the camera.
Ahahaha. Never heard that one before, you stupid dick.
I forced a small chuckle, and widened my feet space between them, at the same time of opening my lips a little, as if aroused by the joke.
Always participate in your own debasement. It makes the Masters happy.
And it shows them they don’t get to me. Well I don’t tell them that. But that’s what it means to me.
“So hem, we’ve got a first question here.
Rosie, if you could choose your role under your next owner, between a whore, or a ponygirl. Which one would it be, and why?”
I stood mouth agape.
This one I didn’t see coming.
“Answer quickly, slut”, ordered my handler, as I was hesitating.
“Well...Sir….I guess I would rather be a whore?”.
As I felt my handler’s gaze on me, waiting for the justification, I quickly spluttered out without thinking.
“I’ve always been keen on social interactions, and caring”
I blushed. Why did I say that. It didn’t made any sense.
There it is Rosie. Only 1 question, and you’re already completely humiliated and telling nonsense.
God I hope I’ll get a taste of candy after this.
And no. Not the big candy attached to my handler’s bone.
I see you coming.
There was a silence for a few seconds. Then my handler laughed a little.
“Alright this one is funny.
Rosie, did you lick pussies before being enslaved? If yes, whose one did you lick first in your life, and when?”
Great. Another of Rosie intimate secrets made public.
Should I lie? She’s not a slave, she will feel ashamed if she finds out about it.
No. I can’t risk the monitors detect a lie. Sorry Sam.
And I want my candy.
“Sir, I licked the pussy of one woman before enslavement.
Her name was Samantha Smith, and we were both 21 years old.
We used to hang out at the university”.
I almost felt proud of myself.
I had responded without any hesitation.
Good behavior points for Rosie the little whore!
But my ordeal was only beginning.
And my sadistic viewers curiosity was still far from satisfied.
My handler asked another one:
“Alright Rosie. What makes you a better slut than the others? Why should a Master bid on you?”
Who the hell is asking this dumb question, I thought.
Are you guys Human resources? Do you want to know my 3 top qualities and defaults after that one?
But I didn’t show my contempt, and answered with my most sensual voice:
“Sir, I’m a Prime minus pleasure slave, available for 4 years.
I have a stellar etiquette, and I’ve been trained to the sexual techniques by the Roman House.
I’m a certified pleasure slut, and one of the best cock sucker of the West Coast.
I also used to be part of the elite, as I was an intellectual. You’ll get to show me my true place.
And my pretty little brain will be 100% focused on making you happy”.
Gosh. With all the efforts I’m putting into this, I sure as hell hope the candy will taste good.
“We’ve got a fellow intellectual here Rosy.
He’s asking you what do you think about the latest study exploring the impact of the slave industry on the economy?”, asked my handler in his most serious voice.
What the hell do I know?
I’ve not seen the news since my enslavement 2 years ago.
Slaves don’t read newspapers, and don’t have access to phones, you know?
“Sir, I don’t know anything about this, I’m sorry”.
Better not try the devil.
My handler praised me:
“Good answer, little whore.
Now as you see guys, you don’t need to ask questions addressed to Rosie’s intellect.
Yes, she used to be an intellectual.
But she’s not anymore. She’s a pleasure slave now.
Her assets are here – as he pinched one of my nipples -, here – as he slapped my ass, and caressed my pussy with his other hand -, and of course, here” – as he made me get my tongue out.
These Roman House bastards have ramp up the humiliations thing since the last time.
Now they go straight for the jugular, I told myself.
But my handler had stimulated thousands of slaves before me.
He knew what he was doing.
The few seconds of physical contact had my pussy start to moisture its intimate nectar, and my nipples stand at attention, begging for touch.
This time, my arousal was not faked.
“Now we’ve got a more relevant question.
Rosie, would you rather get fucked in the ass, or have your pussy licked?”
I answered as I was trying to return to attention position and regain my composure.
“My ass Sir. I’m multi orgasmic through anal stimulation”.
Yet another secret I would rather have kept private.
“And yet you said you’d rather be a whore than a ponygirl.
As a ponygirl you’d get mounted by a male slave from time to time”, he answered.
My handler approached me, and started to caress me, especially circling a finger around and on my clit.
I felt my heartbeat accelerating, and my arousal increase even more.
God I hated the Horny Juice. Makes you go wild in seconds.
Makes us the sluts moaning in seconds. The sluts of lots of men fantasies.
I loved it. It felt so good.
No wait, I hated it.
What are we talking about again?
“This one question is from me directly.
How did last night go in your communal cage. Anything interesting happening with your slave sisters?”, he asked me, at the same time as teasing me.
“Sir, we licked each other’s pussy during hours.
The night has been good. Thank you for putting me in a communal cage”, I quickly replied, trying not to show the delightful effects of his hands on my body.
A few moments of silence passed.
He was not asking me anything, and was not even looking at his screen.
Instead he was caressing my most intimate parts.
Manhandling me by grabbing my hair to make me move my head back, he then forced a kiss on me.
I didn’t fight any of it, and gladly opened my lips to meet his tongue.
These moments felt so good under Horny Juice.
Or have I become a slut since my 2 years of slavery?
He didn’t leave me any second to rest.
Now 3 fingers were fucking my pussy, going on, and out, repeatedly.
My breathing was more and more accelerated, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning my arousal.
I lost track of time.
This continued for dozens of seconds. Minutes maybe?
My only focus was on the orgasm that was slowly coming.
But my handler stopped altogether abruptly.
“Alright, pretty one.
Let’s play a game.
If you can tell me who was the Director of your university when you were enslaved, I’ll give you an orgasm.
Otherwise, you’ll return to your cage frustrated
Your pretty little brain needs to deserve its award”.
The fucker. I don’t remember this one!
Wasn’t it. Dan. Daniel…
“Sir, the Director’s name was Dan. Daniel….Daniel Robin….oh Sir! Please Sir!”
This handsome devil had just decided to fuck my pussy with his fingers again so that I lose focus.
“I’m afraid his name was not Daniel-Please-Sir, little princess.
You lose!” he said to me joyfully, as he stopped again altogether touching me.
I knew better than to protest.
Catching my breath, I returned to the attention position.
My handler let me a few dozens seconds of respite before going on again on his questions:
“Last one for today’s session.
Do men’s cum taste different one from each other? We’ve got a viewer who’s curious.
And I’m told you’re an expert on this one”, he laughed.
Seriously guys. None of your questions make any sense.
And also, why don’t you go find out cum’s taste yourself?
That’s what I wanted to scream.
But Rosie the good little whore did not fight back.
Rosie the good little whore had been taught better than this at obedience school.
So Rosie was to smile and push even further her humiliation.
And so I went on for 2 minutes of detailed expose of all men’s cum possible tastes I had encountered.
The salty semen. The kinda metallic one. The smell. And so on and so on.
As I was beginning making conjectures on the impact of one’s diet on his semen’s taste, my handler stopped me.
“Alright, I think we’ve all learned a lot.
As you see guys, Rosie’s cock expertise has not been overstated.
You were good Rose.
Let’s return you to the collective activities. Slave yoga until lunch.
But before, here’s some slave candy as a reward”.
As he approached his hand with a small candy for me to take with my mouth, I forgot my frustration about not getting an orgasm.
I took it the fastest way possible while remaining respectful.
God it tasted good. I almost had tears in my eyes.
He then whispered to my ear: “I’ve got a surprise for you little whore. There was also a poll among the viewers, between orgasm and punishment.
Guess what? You can masturbate to orgasm before going to the yoga class”.
I moaned in contentment. I knew I was right to comply. I’m happy to comply.
Slavery is pleasure. Slavery is destiny. Slavery is freedom.
Rosie’s 2nd auction
“Alright little princess. Time to rise and shine. Your viewers await you”.
I sighed. I hardly could be mistaken for a princess. Naked. Collared. Stored, among three other slaves in a big communal cage.
“Yes Sir. Right away Sir” I answered, with all humility I could master.
I was on my knees, palms up, posed on my thighs, and back straight.
This was the position I was to take at the Roman House, whenever a handler, or anyone that’s not a slave, entered the room I was in.
I crawled out of the cage, making way through my three slave sisters.
I had been grateful to be stored with them last night.
We had pleasured each other for hours.
Orgasms are a slave’s only salary, and the salary needs to be earned.
I didn’t speak to my slave sisters as I pushed them around.
Nor did I made eye contact.
This was forbidden in the presence of a Master.
As I exited the cage and rose to my feet, the handler slapped my ass, appreciatively.
I knew better than to protest. Instead, I thanked him for touching me, with the most sensual voice possible.
“Do you want to fuck me Sir?”, I asked then, spontaneously.
Might as well get him on his good side immediately.
He smiled.
“We don’t have the time for it right now, little whore. But we might after what you are booked for.
I might also give you a treat if you’re good.”.
I smiled back, feigning to be aroused by the prospect of him fucking me.
But it wasn’t this promise that made me salivating right now.
God I wanted some sugar, or slave candy.
It’s been weeks that I’ve only eaten the disgusting slave gruel.
My handler led me outside of the room.
I followed him, hand behind my backs, and looking down.
He hadn’t leashed me, meaning he trusted me to follow him. This was a good sign.
I was led through numerous corridors, and descending 2 floors.
On our way walking, we passed near numerous rooms where slaves and masters were under various activities.
I couldn’t see precisely what they were doing, as I was looking down.
Sometimes I heard pleasure moans, sometimes a voice was begging for orgasm.
Sometimes silence.
Sometimes instead, the terrible sound of the whip reached my ears.
I didn’t try to make sense out of all of it.
Nor did I asked my handler where we were going, or what the hell did he meant by “your viewers are waiting”.
Slaves have questions, but only Masters have answers.
I didn’t even know in what city we were.
Finally we arrived in a desert room.
It looked like all other rooms in this auction house: there was not a lot of light, and walls were either dark, or Grey.
No furniture anyway.
Only thing apart from me and my handler, was the annoying webcam drone that had filmed me since my arrival here.
“Get in the middle of the room, and stand at attention”
I quickly stopped my daydreaming and complied.
Doing so, I glanced at my handler.
He was wearing all black, as all handlers here.
He was tall, had tattoos on his arms.
But also, he was kinda muscular.
Yummy. I’d bang this one before lunch.
Maybe it’s the Horny Juice talking though?
I don’t care.
“Alright viewers. You are 102 with us right now. Former acquaintances, boyfriends, or total strangers, all here together.
Rosie here will answer a few questions about her. Exceptionally, you can ask anything for free over the next 10 minutes.
Don’t shy away from any personal question.
She’s complied to answer truthfully.
With all our internal monitors chipped into her, we’ll know if she lies anyway”
He then directly spoke to me:
“Slave, you are to present yourself to your viewers and prospective bidders. You are to answer all questions I ask in their name, truthfully. Any lie will result in punishment. Do you understand?”
Shit. I didn’t pass through this ordeal the last time at the Roman House, before getting sold.
Yet another humiliation I was gonna experience for the first time.
The video would surely pass among all my former friends, and not so much friends.
God I hope they won’t go TOO personal. I still intend to live a life as a free woman after this.
I didn’t show any surprise though. 2 years at the Celeste Dining Restaurant facing the demands of capricious rich masters had made me learn composure.
So I smiled and tentatively directly looked at the camera.
“Hello Masters and Mistresses. My name is Rosie, or slave #2023871D9A. I’ve been enslaved since 2 years, and have served as a waitress in a luxury restaurant at Las Vegas ever since.
My previous owner has decided to sell me to the highest bidder for the remaining of my slave contract.
So here I am at the Roman House.
I am rated Prime minus, and am certified to be part of the top 5% cock sucker among slaves.
I hope you will give me the honor of worshiping you by buying me”.
Not so bad for a total improvisation, I guess.
My handler directly asked me, without even reading the chat
“So how did you end up enslaved, Rosie?”
Of course you want me to spell it, you bastard.
You guys all love this story.
“Sir, I was a PHD student at the London School of Economics. Specialty in Sociology.
I was caught trying to illegally access the House of Slaver bank database, in order to obtain data for my study.
I’ve been judicially enslaved for 6 years, to repay the House of Slaver losses, and learn my true place among my superiors.”
There. I’m a former liberal, and abolitionist. You pervs can humiliate me for this all you want without consequence. Happy?
“So as you see, guys, this little princess is pretty smart. Surely smarter than all of us.
Might be how she’s so good with her tongue at cock sucking.
Her pretty little brain can adapt to all situations”, joked my handler to the camera.
Ahahaha. Never heard that one before, you stupid dick.
I forced a small chuckle, and widened my feet space between them, at the same time of opening my lips a little, as if aroused by the joke.
Always participate in your own debasement. It makes the Masters happy.
And it shows them they don’t get to me. Well I don’t tell them that. But that’s what it means to me.
“So hem, we’ve got a first question here.
Rosie, if you could choose your role under your next owner, between a whore, or a ponygirl. Which one would it be, and why?”
I stood mouth agape.
This one I didn’t see coming.
“Answer quickly, slut”, ordered my handler, as I was hesitating.
“Well...Sir….I guess I would rather be a whore?”.
As I felt my handler’s gaze on me, waiting for the justification, I quickly spluttered out without thinking.
“I’ve always been keen on social interactions, and caring”
I blushed. Why did I say that. It didn’t made any sense.
There it is Rosie. Only 1 question, and you’re already completely humiliated and telling nonsense.
God I hope I’ll get a taste of candy after this.
And no. Not the big candy attached to my handler’s bone.
I see you coming.
There was a silence for a few seconds. Then my handler laughed a little.
“Alright this one is funny.
Rosie, did you lick pussies before being enslaved? If yes, whose one did you lick first in your life, and when?”
Great. Another of Rosie intimate secrets made public.
Should I lie? She’s not a slave, she will feel ashamed if she finds out about it.
No. I can’t risk the monitors detect a lie. Sorry Sam.
And I want my candy.
“Sir, I licked the pussy of one woman before enslavement.
Her name was Samantha Smith, and we were both 21 years old.
We used to hang out at the university”.
I almost felt proud of myself.
I had responded without any hesitation.
Good behavior points for Rosie the little whore!
But my ordeal was only beginning.
And my sadistic viewers curiosity was still far from satisfied.
My handler asked another one:
“Alright Rosie. What makes you a better slut than the others? Why should a Master bid on you?”
Who the hell is asking this dumb question, I thought.
Are you guys Human resources? Do you want to know my 3 top qualities and defaults after that one?
But I didn’t show my contempt, and answered with my most sensual voice:
“Sir, I’m a Prime minus pleasure slave, available for 4 years.
I have a stellar etiquette, and I’ve been trained to the sexual techniques by the Roman House.
I’m a certified pleasure slut, and one of the best cock sucker of the West Coast.
I also used to be part of the elite, as I was an intellectual. You’ll get to show me my true place.
And my pretty little brain will be 100% focused on making you happy”.
Gosh. With all the efforts I’m putting into this, I sure as hell hope the candy will taste good.
“We’ve got a fellow intellectual here Rosy.
He’s asking you what do you think about the latest study exploring the impact of the slave industry on the economy?”, asked my handler in his most serious voice.
What the hell do I know?
I’ve not seen the news since my enslavement 2 years ago.
Slaves don’t read newspapers, and don’t have access to phones, you know?
“Sir, I don’t know anything about this, I’m sorry”.
Better not try the devil.
My handler praised me:
“Good answer, little whore.
Now as you see guys, you don’t need to ask questions addressed to Rosie’s intellect.
Yes, she used to be an intellectual.
But she’s not anymore. She’s a pleasure slave now.
Her assets are here – as he pinched one of my nipples -, here – as he slapped my ass, and caressed my pussy with his other hand -, and of course, here” – as he made me get my tongue out.
These Roman House bastards have ramp up the humiliations thing since the last time.
Now they go straight for the jugular, I told myself.
But my handler had stimulated thousands of slaves before me.
He knew what he was doing.
The few seconds of physical contact had my pussy start to moisture its intimate nectar, and my nipples stand at attention, begging for touch.
This time, my arousal was not faked.
“Now we’ve got a more relevant question.
Rosie, would you rather get fucked in the ass, or have your pussy licked?”
I answered as I was trying to return to attention position and regain my composure.
“My ass Sir. I’m multi orgasmic through anal stimulation”.
Yet another secret I would rather have kept private.
“And yet you said you’d rather be a whore than a ponygirl.
As a ponygirl you’d get mounted by a male slave from time to time”, he answered.
My handler approached me, and started to caress me, especially circling a finger around and on my clit.
I felt my heartbeat accelerating, and my arousal increase even more.
God I hated the Horny Juice. Makes you go wild in seconds.
Makes us the sluts moaning in seconds. The sluts of lots of men fantasies.
I loved it. It felt so good.
No wait, I hated it.
What are we talking about again?
“This one question is from me directly.
How did last night go in your communal cage. Anything interesting happening with your slave sisters?”, he asked me, at the same time as teasing me.
“Sir, we licked each other’s pussy during hours.
The night has been good. Thank you for putting me in a communal cage”, I quickly replied, trying not to show the delightful effects of his hands on my body.
A few moments of silence passed.
He was not asking me anything, and was not even looking at his screen.
Instead he was caressing my most intimate parts.
Manhandling me by grabbing my hair to make me move my head back, he then forced a kiss on me.
I didn’t fight any of it, and gladly opened my lips to meet his tongue.
These moments felt so good under Horny Juice.
Or have I become a slut since my 2 years of slavery?
He didn’t leave me any second to rest.
Now 3 fingers were fucking my pussy, going on, and out, repeatedly.
My breathing was more and more accelerated, and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning my arousal.
I lost track of time.
This continued for dozens of seconds. Minutes maybe?
My only focus was on the orgasm that was slowly coming.
But my handler stopped altogether abruptly.
“Alright, pretty one.
Let’s play a game.
If you can tell me who was the Director of your university when you were enslaved, I’ll give you an orgasm.
Otherwise, you’ll return to your cage frustrated
Your pretty little brain needs to deserve its award”.
The fucker. I don’t remember this one!
Wasn’t it. Dan. Daniel…
“Sir, the Director’s name was Dan. Daniel….Daniel Robin….oh Sir! Please Sir!”
This handsome devil had just decided to fuck my pussy with his fingers again so that I lose focus.
“I’m afraid his name was not Daniel-Please-Sir, little princess.
You lose!” he said to me joyfully, as he stopped again altogether touching me.
I knew better than to protest.
Catching my breath, I returned to the attention position.
My handler let me a few dozens seconds of respite before going on again on his questions:
“Last one for today’s session.
Do men’s cum taste different one from each other? We’ve got a viewer who’s curious.
And I’m told you’re an expert on this one”, he laughed.
Seriously guys. None of your questions make any sense.
And also, why don’t you go find out cum’s taste yourself?
That’s what I wanted to scream.
But Rosie the good little whore did not fight back.
Rosie the good little whore had been taught better than this at obedience school.
So Rosie was to smile and push even further her humiliation.
And so I went on for 2 minutes of detailed expose of all men’s cum possible tastes I had encountered.
The salty semen. The kinda metallic one. The smell. And so on and so on.
As I was beginning making conjectures on the impact of one’s diet on his semen’s taste, my handler stopped me.
“Alright, I think we’ve all learned a lot.
As you see guys, Rosie’s cock expertise has not been overstated.
You were good Rose.
Let’s return you to the collective activities. Slave yoga until lunch.
But before, here’s some slave candy as a reward”.
As he approached his hand with a small candy for me to take with my mouth, I forgot my frustration about not getting an orgasm.
I took it the fastest way possible while remaining respectful.
God it tasted good. I almost had tears in my eyes.
He then whispered to my ear: “I’ve got a surprise for you little whore. There was also a poll among the viewers, between orgasm and punishment.
Guess what? You can masturbate to orgasm before going to the yoga class”.
I moaned in contentment. I knew I was right to comply. I’m happy to comply.
Slavery is pleasure. Slavery is destiny. Slavery is freedom.