Any Chance Auction 13B, by Joe Doe
Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2020 5:28 am
“Little Skeeter”, the child I had so often held, towered over me like a skyscraper. My eyes ran up from the tip of his $750 boots, up his scrawny legs, lingering for a moment on the bulge in his jeans.
Clearly, he was enjoying his work.
My eyes traveled over the custom, fringed cowboy shirt I had bought him, and rested on his face. His brow was shaded by his cowboy hat, but I saw no hint of mercy in his business-like eyes.
He didn’t speak loudly. He didn’t have to. It was my job to listen, my job to obey.
“Slave fours,” he repeated. “Then lather up. It’s time to get yer’ pussy SOLD.”
He drew out the “s” in sold, emphasizing what he was going to do, and his absolute power over me. I pleaded with my eyes.
He responded by running the popper at the end of the slave whip through his fingers, reminding me of the price of disobedience.
Fortunately, my years of Slave Yoga training kicked in, and I responded to my auctioneer’s command like a properly trained Pleasure Slut should. Rolling in the sand back to center stage, I resumed my position. Nose down, ass high, legs spread WIDE. The crowd laughed, clapped and whistled as my tortured bung hole came into view.
I reached between my legs and diddled my clit with one finger, making sure the crowd, and the camera, had an unobstructed view of my dripping, open, slave gash, as the bidder’s comments burned in my ears. The image of my sex soon filled the monitor.
“I can’t believe she’s playing her clit-ar.”
“What a skanky sleazebag! Even after he ginger-snapped her!”
“Wow, he skinned her asshole good!”
“Little slut had it coming.”
“I hope he does it again.”
Sure enough, the coliseum crowd, unsatisfied, once again began to chant.
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
Skeeter, laughing, walked back and forth across the auction block, lord of his domain.
Raising my head, and looking over my shoulder, I licked my lips, and waggled my tongue, making it clear to the bidders how much I wanted to suck on their rock-hard cocks, and lick their pussies.
“I’ve showed you the pink, now you show me the green. This little slut ayn’t sitting on her wallet no more. She’s showin’ you fine rich folks everythin’ she’s got! Now open your wallets, and let’s give this pussy a home.”
The bids poured in. I couldn’t really hear the numbers, as Skeeter’s auctioneer patter was too fast, and I was too engrossed in my own pain, humiliation, and the hot fire between my legs as I rubbed myself to slave-gasm.
Instead, I heard Elizabeth’s snooty voice.
“I don’t know why she’s getting so much attention,” Elizabeth huffed. “I hope Daddy doesn’t overbid on her.”
“Yes, they are offering fortune for her,” the Chinese girl said, obviously impressed.
“I don’t know why,” Elizabeth said. “I could run faster than her, at least in a sprint. Maybe. And I’ve done fox hunting for years. I could certainly outsmart a pack of dumb dogs.”
“You would run, like fox?” the Chinese girl said, surprised.
“Actually, I would love to! Father agreed to it last year, as a race between Lord Barker’s daughter, and myself. Two foxes, double the fun. But Debra got cold paws at the last moment so it got cancelled. A pity. My little brother and his friends were quite disappointed, as they were SO interested in hunting me down.”
Elizabeth giggled. The image of the prim, proper, and very lady like Elizabeth splashing naked through a stream with the horses and dogs in hot pursuit, was a powerful one, but my impending slave-gasm was cut short, by the crowd’s chant.
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
Skeeter, enjoying the way the crowd was eating out of his hand, laughed, and reached into his pocket.
“See this here wooden match, ladies and gents?” he said, holding it up like a stage magician. “Git those bids high enough, and light my fire, and I’ll light hers.”
There was laughter and hoots from the crowd as Skeeter kneeled down and carefully inserted the unlit match into my puckered asshole.
“Nooooooooo,” I whimpered, my nose sniffing the coarse, dark sand.
“Steady, girl,” Skeeter said, rubbing his hand over my neck and down my spine, calming me like a skittish horse. “Don’t get slave stupid, and clench.”
The auction resumed. The bids poured in. Then end was near.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. “He’s not really going to sell me. He’s just teaching me a lesson. He won’t actually drop the gavel. He won’t let the hammer fall.”
“Oooh, I see the little red tip of the match,” the Chinese girl said. “Do you think… skinny boy with whip… he light it?”
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oooh! It so close to her butt hole. Won’t that hurt?” Chinese girl said.
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oh…my… GAWD!” a familiar voice said. “She’s, like, waving the match around. Like it’s a little flag, ha-ha!”
It was true. Some of the movement was from the vibrations as my finger teased my clit, but most of it was my asshole clenching, and unclenching on the little match, causing it to wave to-and-fro, a little banner of shame.
Silly little slave girl! Skeeter had warned me not to clench, but like the disobedient little slut I was, I waved the match around. Some of it was panic, but some of it was a strange Pleasure Slut pride, a sensation unknowable to a free woman, the love of being the center of attention.
“They should put a little Texas flag on the tip of the match,” one onlooker suggested.
“Wink it! Wink it! Wink it!” a couple of younger male voices chanted. I wondered if the frat bros were there, or maybe some seniors from the local High School. With my nose in the sand, I was in no position to survey the crowd enjoying my shame.
Instead, I obediently “winked” my asshole, and waved my little red tipped flag pole proudly as the final bids poured in.
This couldn’t be happening. No, I wasn’t a Pleasure Slut, winking her asshole on the block of The Big D as the bids poured in. I wasn’t some skanky Sandy Foot Girl.
I was enjoying shots in my sister’s Rita’s backyard as we celebrated a summer picnic.
I remembered the night clearly. Skeeter’s whip cracking demonstration in the backyard had been impressive, but, as always, I had to up the ante. “Okay, Skeeter, let’s see how good you are. I’ll give you $200 if you can light the match,” I said, walking over to the fence and retrieving one of the unlit matches. “But you have to light it in my shot glass, without knocking it over.”
“Don’t be throwing money at the boy,” Rita said sternly.
“Your drunk, Anne,” Rosco agreed.
“I’m having FUN. You two should try it sometime. If our little man is such hot stuff, he shouldn’t be afraid of a teensy-weensy bet,” I said, downing my tequila shot before putting the tiny glass on the fence. “$200 for lighting the match…without knocking my glass over.”
“That-there glass is a souvy-neer, from our trip to Mexico,” Rita protested.
I dismissed her with a drunken wave. “I can buy you a truck load of shitty Mexican shot glasses, and the taco-eaters who make them. Come on, Skeeter, let’s see what you can do. Do it for your Anna-Annie.”
Skeeter lit the match. But the glass fell from the blow, and cracked when it hit the patio. Still, it was a good try. I applauded anyway, but I could tell Skeeter was embarrassed. It was his first failure of the night, and after that, he put his whip away.
Boo-hoo! Poor little whip cracker.
Rita punished Skeeter for breaking her shot glass by grounding him for the weekend. I was not punished, of course. Skeeter had thought it wasn’t fair, but, being a good Aunt, I used the experience to teach him a lesson. “People with power are never punished,” I explained smugly, raising my bottle in toast before taking a long swig.
Rita frowning, offered a different lesson. “What goes ‘round, comes ‘round,” Rita said, glaring at me.
Rita was right: it had indeed come around, full circle. My misdeed had not been pardoned, rather, my punishment had simply been deferred. I wondered if Rita had suggested the match; it certainly seemed like her. Like the good mother she was, Rita would make sure I’d pay for my disobedience, and that I learned my lesson. The trick that had gotten Skeeter in trouble would be repeated, only now my winking asshole would double for the shot glass. Remembering how Rita’s favorite shot glass had shattered, I prayed that Skeeter’s aim had improved.
I was so lost in the old memory, enjoying my singing twat, and waving my little match-flag, that I didn’t realize what was happening until I heard the gavel slam down with a mighty, final, BANG.
“SOLD!” Skeeter said.
Sold.
The crowd went wild. But it was Rita’s voice that cut across the din. “Light ‘er up!” she yelled.
The roar of the crowd, the crack of the whip, the heat of the lighting match, and the pain between my ass cheeks again I foolishly clenched my bottom crack around Skeeter’s whip, all came at once as I exploded into a slave-gasm that made the sand in front of me turn to white, then blackness, as once again I lost consciousness.
XXX
Blackness. A buzzing in my head. Laughter. Voices.
I awoke to the sound of a champaign bottle POPPING open. I was lying on the dirty linoleum floor of Rosco’s shabby office. In front of me, was the emblem of my humiliation, the totem of power, the branded bug doodle on Skeeter’s cowboy boots.
My head was buzzing. I could feel the tramlines on my bottom, and the burn in my tortured asshole. I was still slave naked, and still covered in coarse, dark sand. The end of the auction hadn’t improved my status. That’s not what slave auctions were for.
Skeeter was sitting on the couch, next to his proud, beaming booth. Some time had passed, because he had changed out of his “fancy” auctioneer clothes, and was wearing plain jeans and a Big D branded T-shirt. The transformation from auctioneer to college student was as complete as the transformation from Superman back into Clark Kent. In look, manner, and speech, Skeeter was a kid again.
Skeeter was on the chair behind me. Without even thinking, I craned my neck over and began licking the sand off the tips of his boots, washing them with my tongue.
A bit of the champaign spilled onto my hair as the laughing Rosco filled Skeeter’s glass.
“That is one shit ton of money, my boy. Congratulations for leading the most successful auction in The Big D’s history.”
“Golly, do I get the plaque? In the trophy case?” Skeeter said, sounding once again like the little boy who had won the team batting championship.
“No, you get TWO plaques,” Rosco said. “One for best overall auction. A second one for getting a record price on this month’s new Miss Sandy Foot, this little boot scrubber here.”
I felt a rush of slave girl pride wash over me, and a wave of pleasure in my pussy. I wasn’t just another Pleasure Slut! I was Miss Sandy Foot! I was a cover girl.
What’s better, I had broken a record! I knew Elizabeth, disdainful as she was, was a delightful shade of green.
I pictured myself lunching at Ralph Lauren’s in Chicago. “I think it’s wonderful that you and Alfred are getting married, Elizabeth. It’s good that he learned to settle, after I turned him down.”
“You never told me you dated.”
“We didn’t DATE, silly, but not for want of his trying. But don’t feel bad about being his second choice. Remember, I’m the hottest girl in Chicago, or London, or anywhere.”
“I am so proud of you!” Rita said, accidentally kicking me in the side of the head as she leaned over to give her beloved son a kiss. “I knew you could do it, if you tried.”
Rita’s voice became concerned. “Will he still get the record plaque, if I turn down the bid?”
“I don’t know,” Rosco said. “I mean, Any Chance Auctions are new. Plus, nobody has ever turned down a bid like that. Frankly, at that price, it would be crazy not to sell her.”
“I’m not selling my sister, Rosco,” Rita said flatly.
“I’m not telling you to,” Rosco said. “Although, legally, she ayn’t really your sister no more. When old Skeeter slammed that gavel down, she became just another Pleasure Slut. And it would be a pity not to let Skeeter get his plaque.”
“What do you think, Skeeter?” Rita asked.
There was a pause, as Skeeter looked down at the pathetic slave slut licking the sand off his boots. “The plaque sure would be nice, but gosh, I’d hate to lose Anna-Annie,” he said. “We should keep her.”
I took his boot tip in my mouth, overcome with love for my powerful master. Yes, he had humiliated me on the block, and whipped my skanky ass, but that’s what I ordered him to do. He had done his job, and treated me like a piece of slave meat to be sold. But in his heart, he was still my adorable little nephew, Skeeter.
“You should let the bid sit overnight”, Rosco said. “At least make it look like your considering it.”
“Fine. I’ll call about the bid in the mornin’,” Rita said. “And who do I call to cancel her butt branding?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Skeeter said. “I’ll talk to Cooter.”
Rita patted Skeeter on the side of the face. “Don’t look so disappointed. There will be other plaques.”
Rosco stepped in. “That reminds me, I believe there is a tradition, where the auctioneer gets a hummer from the slave girl who gets the winning price?”
“Gosh, Mom!” Skeeter said, in an excited voice that reminded me of the time I had gotten him that $1,000 bike when he was 8-years-old. “Can I really?”
I froze. Even as I was licking his boots, I had assumed that our relationship would soon revert to normal. Skeeter’s boyish voice had confirmed his loss in status, his reduction from my auctioneer to my nephew. He was a kid again. I was Anna-Annie, in charge, and all powerful.
I had already begun to think about how much I would enjoy teasing him. Yes, the little bastard would pay for what he had done, and I would manipulate him with sadistic glee. Like everyone else, Skeeter would dance to my tune.
The idea that I would have to kneel before my awkward nephew, a scrawny student, and suck the scum out of his little pecker, was unthinkable.
I looked up from the floor to Rita. Would she really make me suck Skeeter’s peter? She paused for dramatic effect, letting the suspense linger, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes was my answer.
“Don’t see why not,” Rita said. “Miss Fancy-Pants could never understand that bangin’ slave girls is just part of the job at The Big D. ‘Bout time we drove that lesson home.”
“Speaking of driving lessons home, does that hall pass extend to all members of the family?” Rosco asked suggestively.
“Don’t see why not. I ayn’t never questioned what y’all did at work before, sweetie. Don’t see why I should start now. Jist shower up before you climb into bed tonight. She looks pretty skanky, and I don’t want slave stink, and sand b’tween’ sheets.”
Reaching down, Rita lifted me up by the chin, and chuckled in my face. “Well, well, well. It looks like the little sister who wanted to play slave girl is gonna be REAL inventory, even if it’s only for one more night.”
Reaching down, my smiling sister tweaked my blue ear tag. “See the red SOLD sticker on yer’ tag? Kinda cute. Well, yer’ blued and tattooed…high time for you to be screwed, too!”
Rita rose up. “Since Monday is yer day off, Skeeter, I think it would be a good time to use one of yer Anna Annie’s Christmas presents. Anybody up for Six Flags?”
I had to roll out the way as Skeeter, returning to full little boy mode, leapt off the couch. “WOW! Six Flags! Really!”
“Yup! A VIP pass, with front of the line access. The best your Aunt’s money can buy.”
“Wow! Can I go on Batman, and Dive Bomber?
“As many times as you want. All day long. Till close, if you want to.”
“Wow, that’s super! Is Anna-Annie coming with us?” Skeeter asked.
“No, I used her phone app to check myself into the Ritz downtown for tonight, so I can get a spa treatment in the morning. There won’t be enough time to pick her up after my massage, if you want to be there for park opening.”
“She’ll be fine,” Rosco said dismissing, displaying a casual indifference to the endless indignities that formed the life of a female Pleasure Slut. “They’ll kennel her until we pick her up.”
Rosco turned to Skeeter. “You should get going Skeeter. Jake wants you to call him so he can congratulate you personally, and there are a whole bunch of folks who want to shake your hand.”
Rita kissed Skeeter on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t forget to talk to Cooter.”
“About what?” Skeeter asked.
“About canceling your Aunt’s butt branding, silly! I swear, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t stuck on!”
Skeeter and Rita both laughed. My butt cheeks clenched nervously.
Skeeter glanced over at me as he walked to the door. His eyes ran over my breasts, and between my legs. I could tell from the smile on his face that he liked what he saw.
“Don’t worry,” Rosco said. “I’ll warm her up for you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Skeeter said sincerely.
“I’m proud of you to, son,” Rosco replied. Skeeter beamed.
With Skeeter gone Rita turned her attention to me, walking over until she was standing right in front of me. “We’ll pick ya’ up tomorrow, or maybe tomorrow night, depending on how many rides Skeeter wants to go on.”
“All of them, like 10 times,” Rosco said derisively.
“Well drop by and pick ya’ll up on the way home,” Rita said, looking down at me. “How does that sound?”
It sounded like shit. I couldn’t believe how quickly my opinion of Skeeter had shifted. When he had been standing on the auction block, he had seemed like a god, but now I was going to spend another 24 hours in a damn slave kennel, so my juvenile nephew could barf on some idiotic roller coaster. Rita could tell from my expression that I didn’t like any of this, but her little grin told me she didn’t have a fuck to give.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I said, bending down to kiss the toe of her boot.
“Good girl,” she said, dropping a piece of slave candy on the floor. Keeping in character, I delicately picked up the little piece of foulness with my tongue, and rolled it into my mouth.
“You have a good time, honey,” she said to Rosco. “Call me in the morning, when you get to the hotel.”
“Skeeter will probably want to see your suite,” Rosco said.
“We can do it on the way back, before we come back to The Big D,” Rita said. “That way he can see the Christmas lights all around the city.”
“Then don’t check out in the morning,” Rosco said.
“Yeah. Maybe the three of us should stay tomorrow night. The Ritz is pretty fancy!” she laughed.
This couldn’t be happening. ANOTHER night in the kennel, as inventory, because Skeeter wanted to see some twinkling Christmas lights? SERIOUSLY?
Rita kissed Rosco goodbye. Without even bothering to look at the sand covered slave slut on the floor, she walked out the door.
Rosco locked the door behind her. He turned to me, leaned against the door, and smiled. “Slave spread,” he ordered.
I squatted before him, legs spread, on my toes. “You’re not really going to make me do this, are you?”
“I’m not going to MAKE you do nothing, slave girl. I’m just going to give you what you need. Hell, you’ve been asking for it since the day I first met you. Only now you’re going to get it, and get it GOOD.”
“I don’t want to do this. Not with you.”
“Why not?” he challenged. “Do you think your too good for me?”
“No, it’s not that. You’re my brother-in-law.”
“First, you and Rita aren’t really sisters, so that isn’t even a thing. Secondly, you’ve been humping my leg ever since I met you, so don’t play all innocent now. And third, Pleasure Sluts don’t have family. They have masters. So get on your back, legs spread.”
Gritting my teeth. I got up, and walked toward the couch.
“No. On the floor.”
I looked up at him, surprised.
“Why on the floor? It’s cold, and hard.”
“Not for me. I’ll be on top. On your back, Pleasure Slut. Spread your legs, nice and wide.”
I obeyed.
Rosco smiled down as he stared at my open, wet twat. Reaching between my legs, I began to rub myself.
“Who bought me? How much did I bring?”
“None of your fucking business, slave girl,” he replied coldly as he unzipped his pants. “The only thing you need to worry about is being a tight little cock sleeve. Spread your legs wider. And bring your knees up. Pretend you’re at your doctor, for the sniffles, and he wants the nickel show, and pops up the stirrups. That ever happen to you, sweet stuff?”
“Yes, Master,” I said, assuming the position.
It was true. I had heard rumors about a Doctor Cadden, who seemed to enjoy examinations a bit TOO much. Curious, I had asked around a bit more, then made myself an appointment.
I told myself that I was holding an investigation, and that if anything improper happened I would report him.
Dr. Cadden was an old man, bald, distinguished, with a white beard and mustache. He seemed quite polite, even fatherly. It was a guise. My nominal excuse for my visit was that I had sprained my wrist playing handball with Elizabeth. He said he could tape it, if I wanted, but if I just “took it easy” for a while, it should be fine.
As he was checking the motion of my wrist, he casually asked about the background information on my medical form.
“You work out a lot, I see. You are very fit. Any other problems I should know about?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I saw on your forms you put down your Slave Identification Number. Have you been graded?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I admitted, as he slowly bent my arm back-and-forth.
“What was your grade, Anne?” he said.
“Prime Minus,” I replied, blushing a bit.
“Very impressive. I assume this was a professional grade?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I admitted, feeling myself flush more as he smiled knowingly at me.
“Excellent. You’ve had the proper training then?”
“I’ve had some,” I said, squirming a bit on the crinkly paper.
“Excellent. A pretty girl like you should be appropriately trained. How long has it been since you had a full physical?” he asked.
“Eight months,” I said.
“Well, you’re just about due. Why don’t you undress over there in the corner, and put all of your things on the chair. I can give you a good going over.”
I looked over in the corner. There was no screen, no gown.
Sensing my apprehension, Doctor Cadden smiled. “You’re a Prime Minus, Anne, so don’t play shy. Everything off. Tip-to-toe!”
Dr. Cadden sat on his round, wheeled stool, smiling as I slowly stripped for his pleasure.
He examined me to slave-gasm that day, and every six months after that. Oh, how the bastard enjoyed humiliating me. Leaving the door open when I was in the stirrups. Rectal thermometers. Needless “precautionary” enemas. Taking me out naked to weigh me in the scale in the waiting room, then leaving me there to wait with several clothed men ogling me because someone else was supposedly using my examination room. Inviting high school seniors in to watch my examination. The humiliations were worse every time. Oh, I was compiling quite a complaint on him, and someday, when I had enough evidence, I’d file charges!
“Don’t be shy,” Rosco said. “Bring your heels up until they’re touching your ass.”
I obeyed. Rosco penis was average sized, but that wasn’t my major concern.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked.
“You’re not on the pill?” he said.
“I’m not… in a relationship. I date, but…”
“Got it. You prick tease the poor slobs you date, just like you prick tease me and Scooter. Well, you’re a slave girl now, bought and paid for, and now it’s time to ante up,” he said, giving his hard penis a nice smooth stroke.
“Could you PLEASE use a condom?” I repeated, feeling more nervous as I saw the precum dripping from his cock.
“A hat? A rubber? A cock-sock, you mean?” he said, laughing. I could. I got a whole drawer of them! Rosco opened up his desk drawer and took out a cheerfully colored purple package.
“Purple! Just like your eternity collar. Your royal colors, your majesty,” he laughed. Rosco looked at the condom thoughtfully. “Ordinarily, I’d slip this on, given what a scuzzy whore you are, but since you’re not in a relationship, and I’m betting your sloppy but clean, I’m leaving it off. Tonight, you’re riding bareback.”
“Please!” I begged. “I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“Oh, I don’t wanna get pregnant?” he said, mocking me with a snooty falsetto. “You mean, you don’t want to be bred? Mated? Put to stud? Well, that’s too bad, because slave girls don’t get to decide when they get knocked up. Breeding decisions are up to the owner, or the breeder, or the farm manager. Tell you what, let’s make a game of it, like the games you like to play with me and Skeeter. You like games, don’t you, Anne?”
“Yes, Master,” I said, very much feeling the burning in my asshole and the stripes on my tender bottom as I gave him the answer I was required to give.
“Good girl,” he patronized. I’m going to throw this at you, and you can catch it in your teeth. If you catch it, I’ll wear it. Here we go!”
He stood pretty close, and gave it a gentle toss. It hit me in the nose, and bounced off. He laughed.
“Let’s try it again,” he said, picking up the condom.
We tried it again. And again. And again. The more frantic I became, the more Rosco laughed. I finally caught it, then dropped it a second later. Fuck!
“Aw, that’s too bad, he said, picking the precious purple package off the floor. “You deserve a consolation prize for that one,” he said, ripping open the package.
Rosco dropped the purple rubber on my face. “Put it on your tongue. I want you to TASTE how close you came, while I ride your hot, wet slave pussy bareback, and pump all my little baby makers inside of you.
I put the condom on my tongue. It wasn’t flavored, which gave me the full taste of the lubricant and latex.
Rosco laughed as I grimaced. “Ah, the bitter taste of slavery,” he said, kneeling between my legs. “So kind of me to give you something to chew on. What do you say, slave girl?”
“Dank-you, Masther” I said, slurring my speech because of the weird rubber on my tongue.
Rosco laughed as he slid into my hot, unprotected pussy, with a single long stroke. “Can’t read, can’t think, can’t talk. What a little airhead you are! Wouldn’t even be worth breeding with you… if you didn’t feel so fucking good!”
Rosco groaned in ecstasy as he slowly began fucking me, keeping up a steady rhythm.
“Ow…my bodd-om hurts. Can we do ‘et on ‘da couch… Masther?”
Rosco shifted position to make sure his whole weight was on me. “Your asshole burns, you mean? How did you like your gingersnap, whore? You wiggled your ass at my boy for years, now he gave you something to wiggle about. Just like I’m doing now.”
I whimpered in pain, shame, and pleasure as he pumped me with a slow, steady rhythm.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Look at your master. And don’t be afraid to make noise. Everyone knows what we’re doing in here. Damn, girl! You are so hot and sloppy!”
His words crushing whatever little shreds of pride I had left, I looked up into his grinning face and dancing eyes as he fucked me. I was humiliated beyond words, but that seemed to drive him on, as did my slow, deep, moaning.
“Now wrap your legs around me, and wiggle that skanky ass of yours. I expect a Prime fuck.”
“That’s it. Fuck me back. Fuck the man who put your ass on the block, and sold you.”
I wiggled my ass, and moaned in pleasure.
“Now, look at the man who is fucking you. Look in my eyes. Remember, Anne, Pleasure Sluts don’t have friends, or enemies, or family, or neighbors. Pleasure Sluts have cocks to serve, and pussies to lick. Oh, the people you used to know remember you, all right. That’s why fucking you is so sweet.”
“Open your mouth. I want to see that stupid purple tongue of yours wave around while I fuck you.”
I obeyed.
“That’s it! Do you know how stupid you look, Pleasure Slut? Regal Anne, with her royal purple. What a fucking joke!”
My eyes filled with tears even as my pussy hummed.
“Aw, is little baby gonna cry? Baby girl gonna bawl? Don’t cry, slave girl. You love me, don’t you? Of course, you do. All Pleasure Sluts fall in love with whoever fucks them. They can’t help it. Go ahead. Say it. I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes-th. I luff you. I luff you, Mas-ther. I luff you tho mucht.”
Rosco’s laughter burned in my ears. It was humiliating because, at that moment, it was true. Even with the disgusting purple rubber on my tongue, my fear of impregnation, my asshole on fire, my whipped ass rubbing against the cheap floor, and Rosco’s hands roughly mauling my tits, I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone, ever.
“Damn, you feel good. That’s right. Grunt like the slave pig you are. Don’t be afraid to have a slave-gasm. Come for me, slave girl. Slop my cock. Then suck all my baby-makers up into your womb.”
I groaned in pleasure, humiliation, pain, and more pleasure as he humped me harder, picking up the pace and driving my whipped ass into the hard floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself? Of course, you are! You prick-teased me for years. And Skeeter, too. Did you want to fuck us? Were you horny for us, even then?”
“No. I wasth justh… show-thing off. Make Rita jeal-thous.”
“Rita’s been nothing but good to you, Anne, and you still act like you’re her bratty ten years old little sister. You look like you’re ten, too, with those stupid pigtails.”
Rosco grabbed my pig tales, using them as handles as he fucked me harder.
“Feel that burn in your asshole? That’s what happens to little Pleasure Sluts who like to prick tease their betters. And don’t make any mistake about it. We’re all better than you. You’re just another Pleasure Slut, waxing my floor with her ass, like 1,000 girls who have gone before you, and 1,000 girls who will go after. You’re no different than the rest. You’re slave pussy now, just another entry in a very long ledger here at The Big D.”
That did it. I SCREAMED with pleasure as I rocked into a mind-boggling slave-gasm.
“What are you doing, coming without permission? I wasn’t ready yet. But I will be. Here it comes.”
“No. Pleas-th! Pull out! Let me have a rubba! Pleas-th!”
“A rubba? What’s a rubba, bimbo? You getting knocked up is not my problem, Pleasure Slut. Maybe you should have thought of that before you got drunk and rubbed your tits and pussy all over me and Skeeter last night. You played, now you pay.”
Rosco gripped my pigtails and road me harder as I groaned at the feel of his cock. “You like it, riding bareback, don’t you? You always liked thrills. Maybe your new owner will make you have it, so he’ll have a little slave girl you can raise, and he can sell her. Kind of funny, Skeeter’s “little sister” being a Pleasure Slut, just like her Aunt. Now get those feet up in the air. I want my little swimmers to knock you up real good!”
I was in a daze of horror and pleasure. Whether we orgasmed together, or whether my orgasm never really stopped, is impossible to say. “Ohh!” Rosco groaned, as I grunted in pleasure. “That’s it. Wiggle that ass slave girl. Feet in the air. I want that baby batter up deep inside of you. I’m going to soak all your eggs, so you can have a whole litter, just like the slave bitch that you are.”
The closest thing we had to after-play is when Rosco wiped his dirty cock in my hair. Reaching into his drawer for restraints, he quickly cuffed my elbows behind my back, then put me in leg shackles. He was good, and I was fettered even before my after orgasm washed over me.
Lifting me up with ease, he slid the chain holding my cuffed ankles over an old hook on one of the rafters of his office, a remnant of the building’s former days as a meat processing plant.
Hanging upside down, I looked at the top of Rosco’s cowboy boots.
“You wait here, slave girl. Skeeter will be along soon enough, and then you can show him what a grateful little cocksucker you are. Suck, suck, suck! Maybe he’ll let you keep that purple condom on. I doubt it.”
Rosco slapped me HARD on the ass, laughing as I swung back and forth. “That’s it! Let those little baby makers swish around, and work their magic. We’ll leave you hanging up by your heels, to let my seed soak in. Enslaved, barefoot and pregnant, just like you were always meant to be. Wow. Skeeter is sure going to have some fun with you!”
Skeeter left. I swung back and forth, helpless, as Rosco’s seed swished around in my hot, fertile womb.
Clearly, he was enjoying his work.
My eyes traveled over the custom, fringed cowboy shirt I had bought him, and rested on his face. His brow was shaded by his cowboy hat, but I saw no hint of mercy in his business-like eyes.
He didn’t speak loudly. He didn’t have to. It was my job to listen, my job to obey.
“Slave fours,” he repeated. “Then lather up. It’s time to get yer’ pussy SOLD.”
He drew out the “s” in sold, emphasizing what he was going to do, and his absolute power over me. I pleaded with my eyes.
He responded by running the popper at the end of the slave whip through his fingers, reminding me of the price of disobedience.
Fortunately, my years of Slave Yoga training kicked in, and I responded to my auctioneer’s command like a properly trained Pleasure Slut should. Rolling in the sand back to center stage, I resumed my position. Nose down, ass high, legs spread WIDE. The crowd laughed, clapped and whistled as my tortured bung hole came into view.
I reached between my legs and diddled my clit with one finger, making sure the crowd, and the camera, had an unobstructed view of my dripping, open, slave gash, as the bidder’s comments burned in my ears. The image of my sex soon filled the monitor.
“I can’t believe she’s playing her clit-ar.”
“What a skanky sleazebag! Even after he ginger-snapped her!”
“Wow, he skinned her asshole good!”
“Little slut had it coming.”
“I hope he does it again.”
Sure enough, the coliseum crowd, unsatisfied, once again began to chant.
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
Skeeter, laughing, walked back and forth across the auction block, lord of his domain.
Raising my head, and looking over my shoulder, I licked my lips, and waggled my tongue, making it clear to the bidders how much I wanted to suck on their rock-hard cocks, and lick their pussies.
“I’ve showed you the pink, now you show me the green. This little slut ayn’t sitting on her wallet no more. She’s showin’ you fine rich folks everythin’ she’s got! Now open your wallets, and let’s give this pussy a home.”
The bids poured in. I couldn’t really hear the numbers, as Skeeter’s auctioneer patter was too fast, and I was too engrossed in my own pain, humiliation, and the hot fire between my legs as I rubbed myself to slave-gasm.
Instead, I heard Elizabeth’s snooty voice.
“I don’t know why she’s getting so much attention,” Elizabeth huffed. “I hope Daddy doesn’t overbid on her.”
“Yes, they are offering fortune for her,” the Chinese girl said, obviously impressed.
“I don’t know why,” Elizabeth said. “I could run faster than her, at least in a sprint. Maybe. And I’ve done fox hunting for years. I could certainly outsmart a pack of dumb dogs.”
“You would run, like fox?” the Chinese girl said, surprised.
“Actually, I would love to! Father agreed to it last year, as a race between Lord Barker’s daughter, and myself. Two foxes, double the fun. But Debra got cold paws at the last moment so it got cancelled. A pity. My little brother and his friends were quite disappointed, as they were SO interested in hunting me down.”
Elizabeth giggled. The image of the prim, proper, and very lady like Elizabeth splashing naked through a stream with the horses and dogs in hot pursuit, was a powerful one, but my impending slave-gasm was cut short, by the crowd’s chant.
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
GINGER-SNAP!
Skeeter, enjoying the way the crowd was eating out of his hand, laughed, and reached into his pocket.
“See this here wooden match, ladies and gents?” he said, holding it up like a stage magician. “Git those bids high enough, and light my fire, and I’ll light hers.”
There was laughter and hoots from the crowd as Skeeter kneeled down and carefully inserted the unlit match into my puckered asshole.
“Nooooooooo,” I whimpered, my nose sniffing the coarse, dark sand.
“Steady, girl,” Skeeter said, rubbing his hand over my neck and down my spine, calming me like a skittish horse. “Don’t get slave stupid, and clench.”
The auction resumed. The bids poured in. Then end was near.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. “He’s not really going to sell me. He’s just teaching me a lesson. He won’t actually drop the gavel. He won’t let the hammer fall.”
“Oooh, I see the little red tip of the match,” the Chinese girl said. “Do you think… skinny boy with whip… he light it?”
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oooh! It so close to her butt hole. Won’t that hurt?” Chinese girl said.
“I hope so,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oh…my… GAWD!” a familiar voice said. “She’s, like, waving the match around. Like it’s a little flag, ha-ha!”
It was true. Some of the movement was from the vibrations as my finger teased my clit, but most of it was my asshole clenching, and unclenching on the little match, causing it to wave to-and-fro, a little banner of shame.
Silly little slave girl! Skeeter had warned me not to clench, but like the disobedient little slut I was, I waved the match around. Some of it was panic, but some of it was a strange Pleasure Slut pride, a sensation unknowable to a free woman, the love of being the center of attention.
“They should put a little Texas flag on the tip of the match,” one onlooker suggested.
“Wink it! Wink it! Wink it!” a couple of younger male voices chanted. I wondered if the frat bros were there, or maybe some seniors from the local High School. With my nose in the sand, I was in no position to survey the crowd enjoying my shame.
Instead, I obediently “winked” my asshole, and waved my little red tipped flag pole proudly as the final bids poured in.
This couldn’t be happening. No, I wasn’t a Pleasure Slut, winking her asshole on the block of The Big D as the bids poured in. I wasn’t some skanky Sandy Foot Girl.
I was enjoying shots in my sister’s Rita’s backyard as we celebrated a summer picnic.
I remembered the night clearly. Skeeter’s whip cracking demonstration in the backyard had been impressive, but, as always, I had to up the ante. “Okay, Skeeter, let’s see how good you are. I’ll give you $200 if you can light the match,” I said, walking over to the fence and retrieving one of the unlit matches. “But you have to light it in my shot glass, without knocking it over.”
“Don’t be throwing money at the boy,” Rita said sternly.
“Your drunk, Anne,” Rosco agreed.
“I’m having FUN. You two should try it sometime. If our little man is such hot stuff, he shouldn’t be afraid of a teensy-weensy bet,” I said, downing my tequila shot before putting the tiny glass on the fence. “$200 for lighting the match…without knocking my glass over.”
“That-there glass is a souvy-neer, from our trip to Mexico,” Rita protested.
I dismissed her with a drunken wave. “I can buy you a truck load of shitty Mexican shot glasses, and the taco-eaters who make them. Come on, Skeeter, let’s see what you can do. Do it for your Anna-Annie.”
Skeeter lit the match. But the glass fell from the blow, and cracked when it hit the patio. Still, it was a good try. I applauded anyway, but I could tell Skeeter was embarrassed. It was his first failure of the night, and after that, he put his whip away.
Boo-hoo! Poor little whip cracker.
Rita punished Skeeter for breaking her shot glass by grounding him for the weekend. I was not punished, of course. Skeeter had thought it wasn’t fair, but, being a good Aunt, I used the experience to teach him a lesson. “People with power are never punished,” I explained smugly, raising my bottle in toast before taking a long swig.
Rita frowning, offered a different lesson. “What goes ‘round, comes ‘round,” Rita said, glaring at me.
Rita was right: it had indeed come around, full circle. My misdeed had not been pardoned, rather, my punishment had simply been deferred. I wondered if Rita had suggested the match; it certainly seemed like her. Like the good mother she was, Rita would make sure I’d pay for my disobedience, and that I learned my lesson. The trick that had gotten Skeeter in trouble would be repeated, only now my winking asshole would double for the shot glass. Remembering how Rita’s favorite shot glass had shattered, I prayed that Skeeter’s aim had improved.
I was so lost in the old memory, enjoying my singing twat, and waving my little match-flag, that I didn’t realize what was happening until I heard the gavel slam down with a mighty, final, BANG.
“SOLD!” Skeeter said.
Sold.
The crowd went wild. But it was Rita’s voice that cut across the din. “Light ‘er up!” she yelled.
The roar of the crowd, the crack of the whip, the heat of the lighting match, and the pain between my ass cheeks again I foolishly clenched my bottom crack around Skeeter’s whip, all came at once as I exploded into a slave-gasm that made the sand in front of me turn to white, then blackness, as once again I lost consciousness.
XXX
Blackness. A buzzing in my head. Laughter. Voices.
I awoke to the sound of a champaign bottle POPPING open. I was lying on the dirty linoleum floor of Rosco’s shabby office. In front of me, was the emblem of my humiliation, the totem of power, the branded bug doodle on Skeeter’s cowboy boots.
My head was buzzing. I could feel the tramlines on my bottom, and the burn in my tortured asshole. I was still slave naked, and still covered in coarse, dark sand. The end of the auction hadn’t improved my status. That’s not what slave auctions were for.
Skeeter was sitting on the couch, next to his proud, beaming booth. Some time had passed, because he had changed out of his “fancy” auctioneer clothes, and was wearing plain jeans and a Big D branded T-shirt. The transformation from auctioneer to college student was as complete as the transformation from Superman back into Clark Kent. In look, manner, and speech, Skeeter was a kid again.
Skeeter was on the chair behind me. Without even thinking, I craned my neck over and began licking the sand off the tips of his boots, washing them with my tongue.
A bit of the champaign spilled onto my hair as the laughing Rosco filled Skeeter’s glass.
“That is one shit ton of money, my boy. Congratulations for leading the most successful auction in The Big D’s history.”
“Golly, do I get the plaque? In the trophy case?” Skeeter said, sounding once again like the little boy who had won the team batting championship.
“No, you get TWO plaques,” Rosco said. “One for best overall auction. A second one for getting a record price on this month’s new Miss Sandy Foot, this little boot scrubber here.”
I felt a rush of slave girl pride wash over me, and a wave of pleasure in my pussy. I wasn’t just another Pleasure Slut! I was Miss Sandy Foot! I was a cover girl.
What’s better, I had broken a record! I knew Elizabeth, disdainful as she was, was a delightful shade of green.
I pictured myself lunching at Ralph Lauren’s in Chicago. “I think it’s wonderful that you and Alfred are getting married, Elizabeth. It’s good that he learned to settle, after I turned him down.”
“You never told me you dated.”
“We didn’t DATE, silly, but not for want of his trying. But don’t feel bad about being his second choice. Remember, I’m the hottest girl in Chicago, or London, or anywhere.”
“I am so proud of you!” Rita said, accidentally kicking me in the side of the head as she leaned over to give her beloved son a kiss. “I knew you could do it, if you tried.”
Rita’s voice became concerned. “Will he still get the record plaque, if I turn down the bid?”
“I don’t know,” Rosco said. “I mean, Any Chance Auctions are new. Plus, nobody has ever turned down a bid like that. Frankly, at that price, it would be crazy not to sell her.”
“I’m not selling my sister, Rosco,” Rita said flatly.
“I’m not telling you to,” Rosco said. “Although, legally, she ayn’t really your sister no more. When old Skeeter slammed that gavel down, she became just another Pleasure Slut. And it would be a pity not to let Skeeter get his plaque.”
“What do you think, Skeeter?” Rita asked.
There was a pause, as Skeeter looked down at the pathetic slave slut licking the sand off his boots. “The plaque sure would be nice, but gosh, I’d hate to lose Anna-Annie,” he said. “We should keep her.”
I took his boot tip in my mouth, overcome with love for my powerful master. Yes, he had humiliated me on the block, and whipped my skanky ass, but that’s what I ordered him to do. He had done his job, and treated me like a piece of slave meat to be sold. But in his heart, he was still my adorable little nephew, Skeeter.
“You should let the bid sit overnight”, Rosco said. “At least make it look like your considering it.”
“Fine. I’ll call about the bid in the mornin’,” Rita said. “And who do I call to cancel her butt branding?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Skeeter said. “I’ll talk to Cooter.”
Rita patted Skeeter on the side of the face. “Don’t look so disappointed. There will be other plaques.”
Rosco stepped in. “That reminds me, I believe there is a tradition, where the auctioneer gets a hummer from the slave girl who gets the winning price?”
“Gosh, Mom!” Skeeter said, in an excited voice that reminded me of the time I had gotten him that $1,000 bike when he was 8-years-old. “Can I really?”
I froze. Even as I was licking his boots, I had assumed that our relationship would soon revert to normal. Skeeter’s boyish voice had confirmed his loss in status, his reduction from my auctioneer to my nephew. He was a kid again. I was Anna-Annie, in charge, and all powerful.
I had already begun to think about how much I would enjoy teasing him. Yes, the little bastard would pay for what he had done, and I would manipulate him with sadistic glee. Like everyone else, Skeeter would dance to my tune.
The idea that I would have to kneel before my awkward nephew, a scrawny student, and suck the scum out of his little pecker, was unthinkable.
I looked up from the floor to Rita. Would she really make me suck Skeeter’s peter? She paused for dramatic effect, letting the suspense linger, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes was my answer.
“Don’t see why not,” Rita said. “Miss Fancy-Pants could never understand that bangin’ slave girls is just part of the job at The Big D. ‘Bout time we drove that lesson home.”
“Speaking of driving lessons home, does that hall pass extend to all members of the family?” Rosco asked suggestively.
“Don’t see why not. I ayn’t never questioned what y’all did at work before, sweetie. Don’t see why I should start now. Jist shower up before you climb into bed tonight. She looks pretty skanky, and I don’t want slave stink, and sand b’tween’ sheets.”
Reaching down, Rita lifted me up by the chin, and chuckled in my face. “Well, well, well. It looks like the little sister who wanted to play slave girl is gonna be REAL inventory, even if it’s only for one more night.”
Reaching down, my smiling sister tweaked my blue ear tag. “See the red SOLD sticker on yer’ tag? Kinda cute. Well, yer’ blued and tattooed…high time for you to be screwed, too!”
Rita rose up. “Since Monday is yer day off, Skeeter, I think it would be a good time to use one of yer Anna Annie’s Christmas presents. Anybody up for Six Flags?”
I had to roll out the way as Skeeter, returning to full little boy mode, leapt off the couch. “WOW! Six Flags! Really!”
“Yup! A VIP pass, with front of the line access. The best your Aunt’s money can buy.”
“Wow! Can I go on Batman, and Dive Bomber?
“As many times as you want. All day long. Till close, if you want to.”
“Wow, that’s super! Is Anna-Annie coming with us?” Skeeter asked.
“No, I used her phone app to check myself into the Ritz downtown for tonight, so I can get a spa treatment in the morning. There won’t be enough time to pick her up after my massage, if you want to be there for park opening.”
“She’ll be fine,” Rosco said dismissing, displaying a casual indifference to the endless indignities that formed the life of a female Pleasure Slut. “They’ll kennel her until we pick her up.”
Rosco turned to Skeeter. “You should get going Skeeter. Jake wants you to call him so he can congratulate you personally, and there are a whole bunch of folks who want to shake your hand.”
Rita kissed Skeeter on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t forget to talk to Cooter.”
“About what?” Skeeter asked.
“About canceling your Aunt’s butt branding, silly! I swear, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t stuck on!”
Skeeter and Rita both laughed. My butt cheeks clenched nervously.
Skeeter glanced over at me as he walked to the door. His eyes ran over my breasts, and between my legs. I could tell from the smile on his face that he liked what he saw.
“Don’t worry,” Rosco said. “I’ll warm her up for you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Skeeter said sincerely.
“I’m proud of you to, son,” Rosco replied. Skeeter beamed.
With Skeeter gone Rita turned her attention to me, walking over until she was standing right in front of me. “We’ll pick ya’ up tomorrow, or maybe tomorrow night, depending on how many rides Skeeter wants to go on.”
“All of them, like 10 times,” Rosco said derisively.
“Well drop by and pick ya’ll up on the way home,” Rita said, looking down at me. “How does that sound?”
It sounded like shit. I couldn’t believe how quickly my opinion of Skeeter had shifted. When he had been standing on the auction block, he had seemed like a god, but now I was going to spend another 24 hours in a damn slave kennel, so my juvenile nephew could barf on some idiotic roller coaster. Rita could tell from my expression that I didn’t like any of this, but her little grin told me she didn’t have a fuck to give.
“Thank you, Mistress,” I said, bending down to kiss the toe of her boot.
“Good girl,” she said, dropping a piece of slave candy on the floor. Keeping in character, I delicately picked up the little piece of foulness with my tongue, and rolled it into my mouth.
“You have a good time, honey,” she said to Rosco. “Call me in the morning, when you get to the hotel.”
“Skeeter will probably want to see your suite,” Rosco said.
“We can do it on the way back, before we come back to The Big D,” Rita said. “That way he can see the Christmas lights all around the city.”
“Then don’t check out in the morning,” Rosco said.
“Yeah. Maybe the three of us should stay tomorrow night. The Ritz is pretty fancy!” she laughed.
This couldn’t be happening. ANOTHER night in the kennel, as inventory, because Skeeter wanted to see some twinkling Christmas lights? SERIOUSLY?
Rita kissed Rosco goodbye. Without even bothering to look at the sand covered slave slut on the floor, she walked out the door.
Rosco locked the door behind her. He turned to me, leaned against the door, and smiled. “Slave spread,” he ordered.
I squatted before him, legs spread, on my toes. “You’re not really going to make me do this, are you?”
“I’m not going to MAKE you do nothing, slave girl. I’m just going to give you what you need. Hell, you’ve been asking for it since the day I first met you. Only now you’re going to get it, and get it GOOD.”
“I don’t want to do this. Not with you.”
“Why not?” he challenged. “Do you think your too good for me?”
“No, it’s not that. You’re my brother-in-law.”
“First, you and Rita aren’t really sisters, so that isn’t even a thing. Secondly, you’ve been humping my leg ever since I met you, so don’t play all innocent now. And third, Pleasure Sluts don’t have family. They have masters. So get on your back, legs spread.”
Gritting my teeth. I got up, and walked toward the couch.
“No. On the floor.”
I looked up at him, surprised.
“Why on the floor? It’s cold, and hard.”
“Not for me. I’ll be on top. On your back, Pleasure Slut. Spread your legs, nice and wide.”
I obeyed.
Rosco smiled down as he stared at my open, wet twat. Reaching between my legs, I began to rub myself.
“Who bought me? How much did I bring?”
“None of your fucking business, slave girl,” he replied coldly as he unzipped his pants. “The only thing you need to worry about is being a tight little cock sleeve. Spread your legs wider. And bring your knees up. Pretend you’re at your doctor, for the sniffles, and he wants the nickel show, and pops up the stirrups. That ever happen to you, sweet stuff?”
“Yes, Master,” I said, assuming the position.
It was true. I had heard rumors about a Doctor Cadden, who seemed to enjoy examinations a bit TOO much. Curious, I had asked around a bit more, then made myself an appointment.
I told myself that I was holding an investigation, and that if anything improper happened I would report him.
Dr. Cadden was an old man, bald, distinguished, with a white beard and mustache. He seemed quite polite, even fatherly. It was a guise. My nominal excuse for my visit was that I had sprained my wrist playing handball with Elizabeth. He said he could tape it, if I wanted, but if I just “took it easy” for a while, it should be fine.
As he was checking the motion of my wrist, he casually asked about the background information on my medical form.
“You work out a lot, I see. You are very fit. Any other problems I should know about?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I saw on your forms you put down your Slave Identification Number. Have you been graded?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I admitted, as he slowly bent my arm back-and-forth.
“What was your grade, Anne?” he said.
“Prime Minus,” I replied, blushing a bit.
“Very impressive. I assume this was a professional grade?”
“Yes, Doctor,” I admitted, feeling myself flush more as he smiled knowingly at me.
“Excellent. You’ve had the proper training then?”
“I’ve had some,” I said, squirming a bit on the crinkly paper.
“Excellent. A pretty girl like you should be appropriately trained. How long has it been since you had a full physical?” he asked.
“Eight months,” I said.
“Well, you’re just about due. Why don’t you undress over there in the corner, and put all of your things on the chair. I can give you a good going over.”
I looked over in the corner. There was no screen, no gown.
Sensing my apprehension, Doctor Cadden smiled. “You’re a Prime Minus, Anne, so don’t play shy. Everything off. Tip-to-toe!”
Dr. Cadden sat on his round, wheeled stool, smiling as I slowly stripped for his pleasure.
He examined me to slave-gasm that day, and every six months after that. Oh, how the bastard enjoyed humiliating me. Leaving the door open when I was in the stirrups. Rectal thermometers. Needless “precautionary” enemas. Taking me out naked to weigh me in the scale in the waiting room, then leaving me there to wait with several clothed men ogling me because someone else was supposedly using my examination room. Inviting high school seniors in to watch my examination. The humiliations were worse every time. Oh, I was compiling quite a complaint on him, and someday, when I had enough evidence, I’d file charges!
“Don’t be shy,” Rosco said. “Bring your heels up until they’re touching your ass.”
I obeyed. Rosco penis was average sized, but that wasn’t my major concern.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked.
“You’re not on the pill?” he said.
“I’m not… in a relationship. I date, but…”
“Got it. You prick tease the poor slobs you date, just like you prick tease me and Scooter. Well, you’re a slave girl now, bought and paid for, and now it’s time to ante up,” he said, giving his hard penis a nice smooth stroke.
“Could you PLEASE use a condom?” I repeated, feeling more nervous as I saw the precum dripping from his cock.
“A hat? A rubber? A cock-sock, you mean?” he said, laughing. I could. I got a whole drawer of them! Rosco opened up his desk drawer and took out a cheerfully colored purple package.
“Purple! Just like your eternity collar. Your royal colors, your majesty,” he laughed. Rosco looked at the condom thoughtfully. “Ordinarily, I’d slip this on, given what a scuzzy whore you are, but since you’re not in a relationship, and I’m betting your sloppy but clean, I’m leaving it off. Tonight, you’re riding bareback.”
“Please!” I begged. “I don’t want to get pregnant.”
“Oh, I don’t wanna get pregnant?” he said, mocking me with a snooty falsetto. “You mean, you don’t want to be bred? Mated? Put to stud? Well, that’s too bad, because slave girls don’t get to decide when they get knocked up. Breeding decisions are up to the owner, or the breeder, or the farm manager. Tell you what, let’s make a game of it, like the games you like to play with me and Skeeter. You like games, don’t you, Anne?”
“Yes, Master,” I said, very much feeling the burning in my asshole and the stripes on my tender bottom as I gave him the answer I was required to give.
“Good girl,” he patronized. I’m going to throw this at you, and you can catch it in your teeth. If you catch it, I’ll wear it. Here we go!”
He stood pretty close, and gave it a gentle toss. It hit me in the nose, and bounced off. He laughed.
“Let’s try it again,” he said, picking up the condom.
We tried it again. And again. And again. The more frantic I became, the more Rosco laughed. I finally caught it, then dropped it a second later. Fuck!
“Aw, that’s too bad, he said, picking the precious purple package off the floor. “You deserve a consolation prize for that one,” he said, ripping open the package.
Rosco dropped the purple rubber on my face. “Put it on your tongue. I want you to TASTE how close you came, while I ride your hot, wet slave pussy bareback, and pump all my little baby makers inside of you.
I put the condom on my tongue. It wasn’t flavored, which gave me the full taste of the lubricant and latex.
Rosco laughed as I grimaced. “Ah, the bitter taste of slavery,” he said, kneeling between my legs. “So kind of me to give you something to chew on. What do you say, slave girl?”
“Dank-you, Masther” I said, slurring my speech because of the weird rubber on my tongue.
Rosco laughed as he slid into my hot, unprotected pussy, with a single long stroke. “Can’t read, can’t think, can’t talk. What a little airhead you are! Wouldn’t even be worth breeding with you… if you didn’t feel so fucking good!”
Rosco groaned in ecstasy as he slowly began fucking me, keeping up a steady rhythm.
“Ow…my bodd-om hurts. Can we do ‘et on ‘da couch… Masther?”
Rosco shifted position to make sure his whole weight was on me. “Your asshole burns, you mean? How did you like your gingersnap, whore? You wiggled your ass at my boy for years, now he gave you something to wiggle about. Just like I’m doing now.”
I whimpered in pain, shame, and pleasure as he pumped me with a slow, steady rhythm.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Look at your master. And don’t be afraid to make noise. Everyone knows what we’re doing in here. Damn, girl! You are so hot and sloppy!”
His words crushing whatever little shreds of pride I had left, I looked up into his grinning face and dancing eyes as he fucked me. I was humiliated beyond words, but that seemed to drive him on, as did my slow, deep, moaning.
“Now wrap your legs around me, and wiggle that skanky ass of yours. I expect a Prime fuck.”
“That’s it. Fuck me back. Fuck the man who put your ass on the block, and sold you.”
I wiggled my ass, and moaned in pleasure.
“Now, look at the man who is fucking you. Look in my eyes. Remember, Anne, Pleasure Sluts don’t have friends, or enemies, or family, or neighbors. Pleasure Sluts have cocks to serve, and pussies to lick. Oh, the people you used to know remember you, all right. That’s why fucking you is so sweet.”
“Open your mouth. I want to see that stupid purple tongue of yours wave around while I fuck you.”
I obeyed.
“That’s it! Do you know how stupid you look, Pleasure Slut? Regal Anne, with her royal purple. What a fucking joke!”
My eyes filled with tears even as my pussy hummed.
“Aw, is little baby gonna cry? Baby girl gonna bawl? Don’t cry, slave girl. You love me, don’t you? Of course, you do. All Pleasure Sluts fall in love with whoever fucks them. They can’t help it. Go ahead. Say it. I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes-th. I luff you. I luff you, Mas-ther. I luff you tho mucht.”
Rosco’s laughter burned in my ears. It was humiliating because, at that moment, it was true. Even with the disgusting purple rubber on my tongue, my fear of impregnation, my asshole on fire, my whipped ass rubbing against the cheap floor, and Rosco’s hands roughly mauling my tits, I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone, ever.
“Damn, you feel good. That’s right. Grunt like the slave pig you are. Don’t be afraid to have a slave-gasm. Come for me, slave girl. Slop my cock. Then suck all my baby-makers up into your womb.”
I groaned in pleasure, humiliation, pain, and more pleasure as he humped me harder, picking up the pace and driving my whipped ass into the hard floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself? Of course, you are! You prick-teased me for years. And Skeeter, too. Did you want to fuck us? Were you horny for us, even then?”
“No. I wasth justh… show-thing off. Make Rita jeal-thous.”
“Rita’s been nothing but good to you, Anne, and you still act like you’re her bratty ten years old little sister. You look like you’re ten, too, with those stupid pigtails.”
Rosco grabbed my pig tales, using them as handles as he fucked me harder.
“Feel that burn in your asshole? That’s what happens to little Pleasure Sluts who like to prick tease their betters. And don’t make any mistake about it. We’re all better than you. You’re just another Pleasure Slut, waxing my floor with her ass, like 1,000 girls who have gone before you, and 1,000 girls who will go after. You’re no different than the rest. You’re slave pussy now, just another entry in a very long ledger here at The Big D.”
That did it. I SCREAMED with pleasure as I rocked into a mind-boggling slave-gasm.
“What are you doing, coming without permission? I wasn’t ready yet. But I will be. Here it comes.”
“No. Pleas-th! Pull out! Let me have a rubba! Pleas-th!”
“A rubba? What’s a rubba, bimbo? You getting knocked up is not my problem, Pleasure Slut. Maybe you should have thought of that before you got drunk and rubbed your tits and pussy all over me and Skeeter last night. You played, now you pay.”
Rosco gripped my pigtails and road me harder as I groaned at the feel of his cock. “You like it, riding bareback, don’t you? You always liked thrills. Maybe your new owner will make you have it, so he’ll have a little slave girl you can raise, and he can sell her. Kind of funny, Skeeter’s “little sister” being a Pleasure Slut, just like her Aunt. Now get those feet up in the air. I want my little swimmers to knock you up real good!”
I was in a daze of horror and pleasure. Whether we orgasmed together, or whether my orgasm never really stopped, is impossible to say. “Ohh!” Rosco groaned, as I grunted in pleasure. “That’s it. Wiggle that ass slave girl. Feet in the air. I want that baby batter up deep inside of you. I’m going to soak all your eggs, so you can have a whole litter, just like the slave bitch that you are.”
The closest thing we had to after-play is when Rosco wiped his dirty cock in my hair. Reaching into his drawer for restraints, he quickly cuffed my elbows behind my back, then put me in leg shackles. He was good, and I was fettered even before my after orgasm washed over me.
Lifting me up with ease, he slid the chain holding my cuffed ankles over an old hook on one of the rafters of his office, a remnant of the building’s former days as a meat processing plant.
Hanging upside down, I looked at the top of Rosco’s cowboy boots.
“You wait here, slave girl. Skeeter will be along soon enough, and then you can show him what a grateful little cocksucker you are. Suck, suck, suck! Maybe he’ll let you keep that purple condom on. I doubt it.”
Rosco slapped me HARD on the ass, laughing as I swung back and forth. “That’s it! Let those little baby makers swish around, and work their magic. We’ll leave you hanging up by your heels, to let my seed soak in. Enslaved, barefoot and pregnant, just like you were always meant to be. Wow. Skeeter is sure going to have some fun with you!”
Skeeter left. I swung back and forth, helpless, as Rosco’s seed swished around in my hot, fertile womb.
Then making her do that trick again with a match?! 
I'm amazed that she didn't literally piss herself. I can only imagine what her poor wounded rosebud looked like at the end of that night. She won't be forgetting that anytime soon. 
. I think Anne is going to have some more unexpected experiences as she waits for them to pick her up, if they ever get a chance to. I really hope that she ends up getting branded at least. All-in-all this was another excellent, well thought-out chapter and I enjoyed every part of the journey as I continue to hitch a ride in Anne's mind through the ordeal. You left no room for my mind to further wander in this one. 
