My Descent into Slavery (A rewrite and expansion of the first part of Ch 2 of Allison's Descent...
Posted: Tue Apr 20, 2021 4:30 pm
This is the second rewrite of this portion of the story. Hooked6 provided some helpful advice and I did a third rewrite below in yet another posting.
Bobby led me behind the counter to the SIN tattoo station and started setting it up, inputting my personal information into the machine.
“Did you know that about a third of the Any Chance bids are accepted? According to our client satisfaction surveys less than five percent of the clients intend to accept the bids but almost thirty-four percent accept them. Do you really trust your mother-in-law?” asked Bobby as he removed my bite gag.
“Yes, I trust Amelia, Master,” I replied.
That question itself planted a seed of doubt in my mind that I quickly shook off. My relationship with Amelia was strong. She had been there for me when my mother passed away quickly filling a void left by my mother’s death. We had grown close, with Amelia becoming something of a hybrid between a mother and a sister. Most importantly I trusted her implicitly.
“Last month a man brought in his MILF for a slave grading update and Any Chance auction to set her value as collateral for a home loan. She was Prime with Venus Academy training. Unbeknownst to her he had videotaped her in an orgy with the pool boy and the gardeners. She was doing her block routine with that video playing on the screen above her the whole time,” explained Bobby.
Bobby pulled my lip down and the machine quickly imprinted my SIN on the inside of my lower lip while he continued his story.
“The video demonstrated that she could enthusiastically swallow a sword and really enjoyed DPs and even an air-tight. I mean that was one talented slut and the auctioneer played to it to drive up her price. Everyone recognized the Venus Academy brand on her right ass cheek and her sexual skills definitely exceeded what you would expect from a Venus graduate. She didn’t need any more training if you know what I mean,” chuckled Bobby.
He then took the gag securing it back in my mouth.
“So the final bid came in really high and the auctioneer announced, ‘This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now’ and before they got her off the auction block the bid was accepted. The auctioneer then announced that the bid had been accepted. The look of shock on her face was priceless,” laughed Bobby.
Why was Bobby telling me this story? Why was my pussy tingling as I listened to how this woman was betrayed into five years of slavery? Hearing about these women that walked into the Big D expecting to walk out free women and instead ended up enslaved should have horrified me. Instead they were inflaming my lust. What was wrong with me?
“Then she put up a struggle with the wranglers who collar shocked her, knocking her out to the laughter of the crowd. She came too strapped to the branding bench as the blacksmith burned the Big D logo into her left buttock. That was why I asked if you trusted your mother-in-law,” chortled Bobby.
Once the gag was back in place he grabbed my leash and let me down a hallway.
“First stop, the cattle wash, need to get rid of that pussy post stench and get you all dolled up for sale,” he said, with a knowing look in his eyes as he led me into the bowels of the Big D.
Amelia was right, I was not playing anymore, this was real and I was so aroused. Was I a submissive that needed to break free? How would I know?
We arrived at the cattle wash and my handler attached me to the coffle of slave girls waiting for their cleaning. Almost as soon as I was attached to the coffle, a different handler unhooked me, removed my gag, and took me to the front of the line for cleaning.
With my pussy tingling I was strung up off my feet, hosed down, soaped up with a green shampoo that was nice and gritty and smelled awful. When I was lowered to the ground, my feet were secured to the ground spread far apart and then a gaggle of eighteen-year-old boys went to work with brushes scrubbing my body.
“Need to make sure that we get rid of all of your crotch critters,” announced one young man.
He focused his attention on my ass, cunt and clit quickly honing in on my clit with the brush while jamming two fingers up my ass. I promptly arched my back dropping a big climax critter on him with a loud, “Yes!”
They untied me and directed me to bend over for my very first ever enema, quickly followed by two more to make sure there were no colon critters hiding within me. They then rinsed me off, blow dried me and handed me off to some women for a brush up consisting of combing out my hair and applying a little makeup. Once again, I needed to thank Amelia for the pre-grading beauty salon trip yesterday where I was waxed and prepped for today.
When my touch-up was complete, a slave handler whisked me in for my slave photos for entry into the national registry, once again skipping to the front of the line. My pussy was all tingly and dripping as I decided to enjoy bringing out my inner slave slut posing for the photos. I only recall one or two photos where my face was in the picture.
In one face picture, if you want to call it that, I was on my back with my legs behind shoulders held in place by my arms looking into the camera posing my sultry “come fuck me” look with my cunt and ass lewdly on display, pussy juice leaking down onto my puckered starburst. Did I mention that as a dancer and a ballerina I am very flexible? Then I rolled over for my ass shots onto my hands and knees, face on the ground, pulling myself open for the photographer.
“You have the wettest, drippiest cunt I have seen in months,” the cute twenty something photographer proclaimed.
“I bet you tell that to all the slave girls, Master,” I giggled, getting into character as a mindless pleasure slut in heat.
Silently wishing he would just drop his pants and fuck this horny pleasure slut, I could not believe how aroused I was wanting him to impale me with his hard cock. What was wrong with me?
Next thing I know he got his close ups of my spread open pussy and asshole and we were done, leaving my slave heat unsated. I wondered if Calum would enjoy the show I put on for the photographer when he saw the video.
Bobby quickly gagged me again and led me to the grading center where there was another coffle of girls lined up to go in for grading. He directed me to kneel at the end of the line of girls and attached my leash to the girl in front of me.
“Stay here, an official grader will come get you when they are ready,” he directed. Obviously, he was joking, I thought—I was gagged, cuffed, and leashed, so how could I go anywhere?
Literally minutes later, a cute bubbly twenty something brown-haired woman collected me wearing a pink polo shirt with the Big D logo identifying her as a Slave Grader. She unhooked me from the coffle, directed me to stand and checked my ear tag and SIN number.
“Lot 3927, I am Mandy, a certified and licensed slave grader. I will be conducting your slave grading today,” she advised.
Removing my bite gag, Mandy gave me a drink of water while continuing her introduction.
“We are going through your grading now in this order, blood draw and urine sample, slave yoga, body measurements, heat and fluid evaluation and the Vet will check you out. Do you have any special slave yoga positions in your block routine that you want me to incorporate?” she asked.
“I have a pirouette to tilt move that I use for my boyfriend,” I advised.
That had not been part of my game plan for my slave grading today. What possessed me to disclose THAT move I wondered as my pussy continued to tingle out of control.
“Ok, at the end of the slave yoga I will bring you to ‘stand’ and then command ‘tilt’ and you do your thing and then I will bring you to ‘present’. Let’s go,” as she led me into the grading bay.
Amelia had really come through for me by purchasing the Deluxe Reality slave-grading package and I guess the Any Chance auction I thought. I still had serious reservations about being sold on the auction block, even if the winning bid would not be accepted. It seemed that at every stop I was pulled to the front of the line and quickly processed through contrary to what I had expected. At the rate my slave grading was going I might be done before lunchtime.
The Big D was currently in category Pussy Premium Red (severe Prime pleasure slut shortage) for the auction this afternoon. A large shipment of slave girls was scheduled to arrive late this afternoon so all potentially available slaves were being expedited for this afternoon’s auction on Broadway at 2:00 pm. The Whiny Girl from the pussy post was getting the same treatment whenever I saw her. I figured her mother must have gotten her spoiled daughter the Deluxe Reality package with the Any Chance auction also.
Once inside the door the grading bay consisted of some preliminary stations and then a row of twenty-four grading stations all facing into the Big D shopping mall and food court with a railing two yards away from the grading stations that kept the public back. It started just like going into a doctor’s office, height, weight, blood pressure and temperature. Then off to the labs where a phlebotomist drew a blood sample for testing. Mandy then handed me a urine sample cup.
“Take this cup over to that grate in the floor in front of the railing, put the cup on the grate, facing the crowd, squat over the cup, fill it and stand. If you have more pee, once I have picked up the cup squat back down with your hands behind your head and finish. Stay in that position until I wipe you down, go now,” she directed.
Wanting to please her, I obediently walked over to the grate with my pussy tingling and blushing a deeper color of red than my hair; I put the cup down and squatted down while facing the crowd.
"This hot piece of tail is a carrot crotch," commented an older male voice as I squatted over the grate.
"Never heard that one before Dad. She sure has a hot pussy though," replied a younger voice.
"Carrot crotch refers to a woman with natural red hair," explained his father.
“That phrase is so old school Dad. Now we call a red haired carpet a ginger nookie, fire crotch, burning bush or a firecracker cooter,” responded the son.
I thought I heard Pixie Girl’s voice. I saw her looking intently at me from the crowd with her hand moving under her skirt in a manner that could only mean she was in the act of self-gratification. The sexual exhilaration of this place was having an effect on her also, fueling her arousal.
When Mandy picked up the cup, I put my hands behind my head, squatted back down and finished whereupon Mandy took a cloth and cleaned my legs and vagina. The dehumanizing way these men were describing me was igniting my slave heat. The whole time Pixie Girl and I stared into each other’s eyes.
"Most slave girls are kept bald down below but when selling a woman, you can determine their natural hair color by their pubic hair. For this one the carpet matches the curtains," advised the father.
“You mean the rug matches the drapes,” laughed the son.
I was already aroused after wanting the photographer to impale me. The humiliation of exposing myself while peeing in front of a crowd coupled by the guest commentary and Pixie Girl lustfully staring into my eyes fueled my slave heat.
Suddenly Pixie Girl had a faraway look in her eyes, biting her lip as she shuddered while her mother watched on with a bemused look on her face. I easily came with her when Mandy wiped my cunt, lingering on my clit a little too long as she played to the crowd. The whole time the crowd was jeering and cheering during my performance amplifying my arousal.
“Oh my god! She came squatting over the pee grate. What a tramp,” Pixie Girl squealed in delight trying to conceal her own climax. When she pulled her hand out from under her skirt it glistened with pussy juice and she blushed when her mother casually handed her a Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe.
“Now that’s what I call a fire crotch,” chuckled the father.
“Nah, that’s a firecracker cooter due to its combustibility,” laughed the son as Pixie Girl looked worriedly at them thinking she had been caught until it dawned upon her that they were referring to me.
“Let’s watch the rest of her grading,” suggested the father.
Mandy led me over to the slave yoga demonstration site, drawing a crowd of spectators including Pixie Girl, her mother and my father and son fans. My pussy tingled and dripped as I began the show. Mandy ran me through a series of positions; present, squat, slave kneel, slave fours, roll over, and display. I gracefully moved through them instinctively responding to her commands while chanting appropriate mantras with accompanying facial expressions. My cunt was wet and leaking for the entire performance. Finally, Mandy ordered, “Stand” followed by “Tilt.”
Facing the crowd, I raised my right leg 180 degrees from my left leg with the knee bent toes on my right foot pointing to the ground. Still blushing profusely holding my arms over my head I then straightened my right leg until the toe pointed to the ceiling, my wet cunt and ass lewdly exposed.
With my right hand I grabbed my right foot holding the position when Mandy walked up to me running two fingers from her right hand through my dripping pussy lips. She scooped my cunt cream, then turned to the crowd holding up her wet juice covered fingers. She put the slick fingers in her mouth sucking off my juices, pulled them out and ran her tongue up and down her fingers to get any last drops to the roar of the crowd.
“Stunningly beautiful, graceful, dripping wet and she tastes good too,” she announced with a big smile.
“Stand,” she ordered and I returned my leg to the ground.
The rest of the grading was a blur. Mandy took body measurements using a measuring tape and a caliper. Then she strapped me into the table and spread my legs wide open for the crowd, lewdly displaying my juices dripping from my slit onto my winking browneye as I was panting on the verge of yet another orgasm during the entire time. Mandy used a series of different devices running them over my vagina and then probing both my vagina and anus. She stepped aside. The Vet quickly examined my vagina and we were done.
Mandy unstrapped me and stood me up, attached a leash to my collar as she ordered me to wave to the crowd and started leading me to the exit. I felt like Miss America walking down the runway as I waved to the cheering crowd all the way to the exit where she secured my hands in handcuffs behind my back.
After giving me a drink of water, Mandy excitedly showed me my profile on her iPad. The Public Display portion of my slave grading on the Big D slave profile read as follows:
Name: Allison Stevens
Status: For Sale -- Rush Processing Pussy Premium Red -- Debt Repossession
Slave Identification Number: US-ILS81-X9Z3
Lot number CZ-3927
Grade: Pending
Age: 22
Height: 5'7"
Weight 109 lbs.
Body measurements: 33-24-32
Bra size: 30C
Dress Size: 2
Hair: Red
Eyes: Deep blue
Body Fat: 18%
Slave Yoga Grade: A
Slave Heat: 98th percentile
Pussy Moisture: 99th percentile
Education: Bachelors of Fine Arts Dance, University of Texas, Austin. Three years participation in the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City
Other Grader Comments: A redhead with blue eyes is the rarest hair and eye color combination. Extremely graceful and fluid moving through slave yoga positions. Magnificently shaped firm ass on a very fit toned yet feminine body. Very obedient and easily embarrassed; demonstrates all of the characteristics of a natural submissive.
“You are doing great. You might be my first Prime grade!” she exclaimed animatedly. Pulling out a can of Devox she said, “Open wide, I am going to spray this down your throat so you will not be able to talk for your public display. Remember to smile and nod, do not get upset when being groped, we will watch to make sure you are not abused. You are so aroused and wet I fully expect you to stay that way throughout this part of the grading. So just sit back and enjoy the rest of the process, the hard part is over,” she advised.
My cunt was on tingle overdrive when I saw that my profile had me available for sale. I needed to thank Amelia for the Deluxe Reality grading package that she had purchased. It was truly ratcheting up my arousal level feeling as if I really was up for sale being rushed to meet an auction deadline.
Mandy took me out onto the display floor, attached my feet to cuffs in the ground about two feet apart, secured my wrists in cuffs attached to a wire that ran up into the ceiling above my head. When she pushed a tab on her iPad my hands were pulled up over my head leaving my whole body on display, unable to move.
While I hung there on display for two hours I had time to reflect. What would it be like to really be sold on the auction block as a pleasure slut slave with no control over her fate? Actually living the uncertainty of not knowing who my master would be. Would he be cruel or kind? How would he sexually use my body for his pleasure? Would a bordello purchase me as a sex toy for clients? What would that really be like?
Part of me hated Amelia for doing this to me, forcing me to really examine my true feelings about slavery while I was also so deeply aroused by this prospect. Why was I so turned on right now?
The first people through were a bunch of young gawkers who pawed on me incessantly. One young man gave my clit a hard massage, sending me over the edge into a back-arching climax to everyone’s amusement. Little did they know that I was deep in thought contemplating my future life as a pleasure slut slave. This was becoming too real; even though I knew I was not going to be sold as a slave.
The father son tandem were back. It turned out that the father was a slave trader giving his son some on the job training evaluating the slave livestock. The father gently but firmly hefted my breasts and squeezed my already erect nipples, sending more tingles to my clit.
Looking over his shoulder I noticed Pixie Girl and her mother intently watching these men evaluate my attributes as slave pussy livestock available for sale. Once again Pixie Girl’s right hand was under her skirt, although this time I could not detect any movement. With her left hand she was holding onto her mother’s right hand.
“This is one fine piece of slave pussy son. Notice the shape and firmness of her breasts, the nipples are hard as diamonds. Her skin is not extremely pale meaning she can tan and spend time in the sun without burning,” lectured the father.
“The freckles are really nice, not too many or too few,” added the son.
“You can examine her body to evaluate her. Open your mouth for me honey,” the father directed.
When I opened my mouth he pulled my lips back examining my teeth like a horse. Why was this causing my pussy to leak like a sieve?
“Perfect teeth and no cavities. Her breath even smells good. Speaking of odors, can you smell her slave heat just standing next to her? I want you to gently feel her attributes and then check her for slave heat and moisture,” directed the father.
The young man started on my breasts massaging them, then lightly running his fingers on them until he arrived at my nipples. Instead of squeezing them he lightly ran his fingertips over my nipples sending shivers down my spine to my pussy as I moaned in pleasure. God that felt good!
Pixie Girl’s free hand started moving slowly under her skirt while her mother’s nipples were now protruding prominently.
“Willard Turner, how are you doing?” I heard the voice of another older man.
“Ed, good to see you. This is my son Bret, just finished his sophomore year at UT and he is learning part of the family business. Bret, this is my old friend Ed Jones,” announced Willard.
“Nice to meet you Sir. We were just evaluating this piece of slave pussy,” advised Bret.
“Ed is an old hand at this and can give you some unbiased feedback when you are done. Get to it,” directed Willard.
Bret continued his evaluation running his hands down my stomach to my mons; moving his hands to my ass as he stepped behind me. He squatted down behind me, pulling my cheeks apart and blew on my asshole. When I felt that breeze, I swear my rosebud winked at him as I groaned loudly in frustration followed by a sympathy moan from Pixie Girl that caught Ed’s attention.
Bret moved in front of me while he gently worked a finger into my pussy and pulled it out. Looking me in the eye he put his finger in his mouth and sucked my juices off as I whimpered in frustration badly needing relief even though I just had an orgasm fifteen minutes ago.
“So what do you think?” asked Ed.
“Mr. Jones, she is Prime or Prime Plus. She has a beautiful face, her blue eyes and red hair combination are extremely rare, her body is incredible from her breasts, to her ab crack, her natural thigh gap, a nice smattering of freckles on her face and body and a spectacular ass. She is extremely responsive with a nice soft and extremely moist pussy, good teeth and her pussy tastes delicious,” described the son in a monotone delivery much the way he would describe a car or computer for sale.
“Good job. Now watch and learn,” directed Ed as he stepped in front of me.
Ed put his finger into my molten pussy, pulled it out and then started circling around my clit. I started pushing my pelvis forward trying to connect my clit to his finger chasing yet another orgasm. Pixie Girl stared intently at me, her hand moving with greater urgency under her skirt as she clutched her mother’s hand.
Ed slowly pulled his finger away and I arched my back, standing on my toes, chasing contact with his finger until I could go no further with his finger unmoving on my clit as I moaned in frustration. Pixie Girl continued staring at me while feverishly working her hand while arching her back, almost mimicking my movements. Natasha had a bemused smirk on her face as she noticed her daughter’s back arching slightly while the crowd focused on me.
“Slut, if you want to cum you will have to massage your devil’s doorbell on my finger. I will hold it steady making contact but you need to do all the work. You only have a few minutes and then I am leaving,” Ed chuckled.
My slave heat ignited as I frantically humped his finger with my clit, somehow arching my back even further increasing the pressure of his finger on my nub. True to his word he held it steady as I desperately rubbed my clit on his finger striving for more friction on my nub to push me over the edge until I exploded in a frenzy on his finger moaning in pleasure with a smile of satisfaction on my face, the whole time watching Pixie Girl frantically service herself trying to catch up with me. I may even have squirted some dew when I erupted on his finger.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” squealed Pixie Girl as she joined me in orgasmic bliss erupting all over her hand, back arching slightly when her climax started. Soon she was bent forward somewhat at the waist, subtly shuddering in her frenzy, still clutching her mother’s hand. Once again the crowd’s attention was on me while her performance went unnoticed. All the while her mother looked on, shaking her head in amazement.
The applause and laughter of the audience that had gathered around me brought me back to my senses as it did for the now blushing Pixie Girl. Recovering from this intense orgasm I realized exactly how wanton a display I put on for everyone who observed it. The humiliation of what I had just done enveloped me as I realized exactly how much I looked like the needy little pleasure slut chasing orgasmic pleasure like my life depended on it as I discarded any shred of my remaining human dignity.
Natasha handed Pixie Girl another Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe to clean her hand with. While Pixie Girl took care of business Natasha leaned down and appeared from a distance to be whispering in Pixie Girl’s ear. From the expression on both their faces it did not appear that Natasha was particularly pleased with her daughter’s recent behavior. Suddenly it dawned upon me that I was the only person besides Natasha to witness the masturbation.
“Good slut,” chuckled Ed as he sucked my juices off his finger while I recovered.
“That was really awe-inspiring Mr. Jones,” exclaimed a clearly impressed Bret.
“Son, that maneuver is what we in the business call the ‘Midas Touch’. When slave pussy reacts like this one did demonstrating the intensity of her slave heat she is golden,” laughed Willard.
“This slave pussy is clearly a Prime. I watched how she responded when you were lightly touching her nipples and the way she chased that last orgasm just demonstrates her responsiveness and the intensity of her slave heat. Once her slave mind takes over after obedience school and she gets trained at either Venus or Pearson’s, this pleasure slut will make some master a very happy man,” explained Ed, while I blushed in embarrassment listening to the men discuss my attributes like I was a piece of meat or a car.
“Bret, why don’t you check out that brunette strung up over there”—he was referring to Whiny Girl. “Ed and I will give you some more pointers,” advised Willard as he and his son walked away.
“I’ll catch up with you guys,” said Ed, pointing towards Sandy while glancing at Pixie Girl.
Ed suddenly eased over to Natasha and Pixie Girl with a knowing grin on his face. Trying to be discreet he engaged them in conversation as Pixie Girl finished cleaning her hand with the Palmpalm wipe.
“Young lady, you got a serious hitch in your get-along with that behavior in the public display section in a slave market while wearing a leather choker. That is not something that free women do,” Ed chuckled, while Pixie Girl just stood there blushing.
Natasha had a horrified look on her face looking around to see if anyone else noticed finally resting her eyes on me.
Turning towards Natasha he said, “Your daughter has a calling for the collar. I can tell. Just like I can tell that you’ve worn a collar, Ma’am. May I be of assistance finding you a good buyer for her?”
“Honey, go test Sandy’s slave heat and try to make her cum. Play nice, like you would want to be treated. Remember, next week that will be you strung up naked on display,” directed Natasha, pointing towards Sandy.
Pixie Girl’s eyes lit up when she saw her former babysitter’s predicament, the ever ebullient teen quickly hurrying over to Sandy. Fascinated, I watched Pixie Girl’s small hands manipulating Sandy’s prodigious breasts. Pixie Girl started gently massaging one breast with both hands, and then the other, while Sandy once again blushed red from her face to her chest from the touch of the teen that she used to babysit. Soon Pixie Girl was in a trance as her hands were gently massaging Sandy’s nipples as her former baby-sitter became flushed with excitement as she moaned in arousal, her large nipples as hard as diamonds. Pixie Girl’s efforts, coupled with Sandy’s response, soon drew a crowd of onlookers.
Then some other slave traders examined me as if I was really for sale, even checking my teeth again, and of course testing my cunt for moisture, inputting information on their iPads all while I listened in on Ed’s conversation with Natasha.
“My husband and I obtained a Preventative Enslavement Emergency Protective Order (EPO) for Becky the week before her eighteenth birthday to shield her from her slave tendencies that we observed during her senior year of high school,” explained Natasha as she watched her daughter work over Sandy’s breasts.
“A wise move getting that EPO,” responded Ed. “Most parents fail to recognize the danger until it is too late.”
"Senior year she became president of her school book club, turning it into a slave romance novel reading circle for girls. Her classmates voted her the most likely to wear a collar this year in the yearbook. The truly scary part was when she proudly announced it at the dinner table like it was a real honor. She is an "A" student in school, taking AP classes, a concert quality pianist, but became totally immersed in unrealistic slave fantasies. She even received a 100% on her slave yoga final last week after practicing naked for hours every night. Now I have to replace the carpet in her room due to the noxious pussy juice odors and stains, "exclaimed Natasha.
I continued to listen to their conversation as yet another slave trader checked my honey pot for moisture. It had remained a leaking sieve the entire time I was on display. Stepping behind me he started using my juices to lubricate my back door, working one and then two fingers up past my sphincter.
“Not an anal virgin,” he chuckled in my ear as I blushed in embarrassment thinking of the times Calum used my ass while I played his little slave girl.
"Then I found an entry in her diary where she described a plan to come to the Big D to voluntarily indenture shortly after her 18th birthday with another of her friends from the book club. She was accepted into Yale, Stanford and MIT. The foolish girl was going to throw it all away chasing a ridiculous slave girl fantasy," sighed Natasha.
“Self-Enslavement Syndrome is extremely rare, but every time I see it in a young woman it shocks me. I can sense her smoldering slave heat, her natural submissiveness, but I did not pick up on her condition,” exclaimed Ed.
“Now that Becky is technically a slave while the EPO remains in place she started masturbating in public because she knows as a slave this behavior is permissible. She demonstrates some discretion and is good at concealing her actions but as you can see she does not have any restraint when the mood catches her,” sighed Natasha.
“I have been observing your daughter. Becky is a beautiful, ebullient, graceful and captivating young woman who demonstrates a fun, mischievous attitude towards life. From what I can see, and I have been doing this over thirty years, she has a tight little body and more than enough slave heat to score in the Prime range next week,” appraised Ed. “Do not worry about the Self-Enslavement Syndrome hurting her grade, if anything it could lead to a higher score.”
“Thank you, I will take that as a compliment under the circumstances,” smiled Natasha graciously, with a relieved look on her face.
“What happened to her friend?” inquired Ed.
“She ended up a slave in a harem in Dubai. Her grandfather had the brilliant idea of getting her an Any Chance auction and when trying to cancel the sale on his smartphone accidently hit the ‘sell’ button,” said Natasha, shaking her head in disgust.
“All sales are final,” commented Ed.
“Right. The poor girl’s mother was fit to be tied when she found out. Right now she and her husband are planning a trip to Dubai to try and get her daughter returned. There is a pending lawsuit against the Big D and the app developer,” sighed Natasha.
Pixie Girl now had two fingers from her left hand inside Sandy’s pussy massaging her G spot while methodically manipulating her clit with the other hand. Poor Sandy was withering on the edge of orgasm moaning in need. It was clear that Pixie Girl was in no hurry to push Sandy over the edge into a frenzy.
“She is acting like kid in a candy store here,” grinned Ed.
“Standing in the display room brings back memories of being sold right here at the Big D over twenty years ago. I recall the utter terror of not knowing my fate, being pawed by strangers while strung up on display all the while the sexual exhilaration of this place fueling my slave heat,” sighed Natasha, trying to change the topic.
“You graded in the Prime range I suspect,” grinned Ed.
“Prime Minus, and I proudly wear the Big D brand on my left cheek letting the world know that I am a Sandy Foot Girl,” exclaimed Natasha proudly.
“I thought so,” smiled Ed.
“My husband knows that all he has to do to ignite my slave heat is too lightly trace his fingertips along my brands. Gets me going every time.”
“Many men like fondling the brands on their slaves,” chuckled Ed.
“You never forget the distinctive smell and feel of the sand between your toes and on your body on Broadway when performing your block routine. The gavel coming down as the auctioneer yells SOLD! To this day I remember the orgasm I had, laying on my back squirting in the sand like it was just yesterday,” groaned Natasha.
“She’s about to blow,” chuckled Ed, nodding in Sandy’s direction.
Sure enough, Pixie Girl had performed her own version of the Midas touch, pushing Sandy over the edge into a back arching, body shuddering, massive explosion of orgasmic bliss. Sandy even squirted a little on Pixie Girl’s hands.
Pixie Girl had a big, look what I did, grin on her face as she skipped back over to Ed and Natasha. For a moment there I thought she was going to offer Ed a taste of Sandy’s juices from her fingers. Natasha promptly handed Pixie Girl yet another Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe to clean her hands with while talking to Ed.
“I was one of the lucky ones avoiding the horrors of being used as a pleasure slut slave. My owners purchased me as a consort for their son, sending me to Broadstone for training. We eventually fell in love getting married. My life could not have turned out better. The training I received at Broadstone shaped me into a stronger, more confident woman,” smiled Natasha.
“Mom, are you and Daddy planning on sending me to Broadstone this summer?” inquired Pixie Girl.
“Honey, we haven't decided yet. Remember we go to court in two weeks, after your slave grading next week, to discuss your Protective Enslavement with the Judge. Dr. Nikki Sheldon will have her recommendation for the judge by then,” answered Natasha, sounding like she was talking to a child, not a young woman that was accepted into MIT, Stanford and Yale.
“Well, it looks like you do not need my assistance then. Out of curiosity, when would you plan on matching her with her future master?” Asked Ed.
“Probably after she graduates from college when she is more mature and better understands the ramifications of being paired with her future husband. We will likely have her participating in Broadstone’s summer concubine program while attending college,” answered Natasha as she noticed me following the conversation as yet another slave trader checked my oil.
One professional trader told another that I was up for sale at the 2:00 p.m. auction as they examined me. I thought, “Boy they really do a good job making it seem real for you when you have the Deluxe Reality grading package,” as my pussy tingled, gushing more cunt cream on his fingers as he explored my pussy.
Natasha walked up to me, looking me in the eye asking, “Were you listening in on my conversation?”
I nodded yes.
“Good, I really hope you learned something. Based on my experience, if you are lucky you may end up at Broadstone. It saved my life. If given the opportunity, take it, you will become part of an elite sisterhood that takes care of their own,” she kindly advised with a knowing look in her eyes as she gently ran her fingers through my hair.
Natasha took Pixie Girl’s hand and steered her out of the display area. Pixie Girl turned and waved goodbye to me as her mother led her away.
"Mom, what's a Spinner? I overheard a man tell his friend I was a Spinner, born to wear a collar. What did he mean?" I overheard Pixie Girl ask, as they walked away.
Listening to Natasha gave me more to contemplate while hanging there. I tried to imagine the utter terror that Natasha felt not knowing her fate, strung up on display while being pawed for hours by strangers. The sexual exhilaration of this place was fueling my slave heat just as it had hers back then. I wondered what this Broadstone School was and what kind of parent obtained a Protective Enslavement order for a child. After observing Pixie Girl’s behavior I could see that there was some logic to the concept.
When you are strung up on display for two hours you have plenty of time to reflect on your life. Natasha’s comment that Broadstone shaped her into a stronger, more confident woman struck a chord with me. My problem as a dancer was a lack of confidence, not talent. I simply choked in front of large audiences or during auditions.
Whenever I accompanied Calum to large social engagements I always clung to his arm, not wanting to be left to my own devices. The truth was that these events intimidated me, I dreaded being on my own engaging total strangers in conversation. Early in our relationship we became separated at one of these events and Amelia rescued me. In hindsight she always seems to find me when I become separated from Colum, involving me in the group conversation, always making sure I am actively engaged in the event. How was she always so poised, ready for any situation that might arise?
My limited understanding of slave schools was that they trained slaves, especially pleasure sluts, to be docile and compliant, relying on their master for any and all guidance. Pleasure sluts did not make decisions, they existed to entertain their masters immediately obeying every request, regardless of how small, trivial, painful or disgusting. So how did a school designed to instill obedience and subservience also make Natasha strong and confident? And how does this elite sisterhood take care of their own if they are slaves? Could the techniques applied at Broadstone be used to help me with my confidence and make me a better woman, fiancée and wife?
So much for deep thoughts. Being strung up on display like a slave for sale had me fondly reliving one of my favorite slave girl episodes with Calum. One evening I had dinner all laid out on the table when he arrived home. I greeted Calum, or should I say my master, using my best slave speak, wearing only my favorite sexy black leather choker featuring grommet detailing, O-ring accents, and a long front black leather tassels, on my knees lewdly displaying my sopping wet pussy, informing master that dinner was served while this slave was available to meet any of master’s immediate needs.
Master was hungry so we proceeded with the meal but with a twist as my master sat his little slave upon his lap and proceeded to feed both of us. He would cut the steak into bite size pieces feeding himself using a fork. When he fed me he used his fingers making his slave lick her master’s fingers clean. Picking up a piece of broccoli or a mushroom with his fingers he would place the food into my open mouth. My master fed his slave what he wanted, when he wanted, throughout the entire meal. It was simply one of the most erotic experiences of my life leading to some of the best sex ever.
With our appetites sated I stood to clear the table when master noticed that my pussy juice had leaked all over his thigh, soaking through his pants. That led to a bare fanny spanking with tears streaming down my cheeks while also inflaming my slave heat. What followed was a passionate session of slave sex in our bed. This slave was honored with many orgasms, a deposit of my master’s sperm in this slave’s slave cunt and another deposit in this slave’s slave hole during which I actually had two anal orgasms.
Now I wondered what life would be like if I was sold at auction to Calum as his slave while yet another slave trader tweaked my nipples and checked my pussy for slave heat. I almost came yet again wishing he would ring my doorbell.
Breaking me from my thoughts, Mandy released me when my time was up, securing my hands behind my back in handcuffs and attaching a leash to my collar. She took me into a corridor, sprayed my throat with the Devox antidote and gave me some water to help get my voice back.
“Wow! That was one hell of display of out of control slave heat in there. Great job of selling yourself as a horny pleasure slut,” excitedly exclaimed Mandy. “Slowly drink the whole bottle of water please. It will help with the Devox.”
When I finished the water Mandy looked at her iPad.
“Good news, you scored a Prime rating, great job, you should be so proud of yourself and you are my first Prime,” she breathlessly cooed.
“Thank you for your help, Mistress,” I gushed in a raspy voice while smiling happily.
Mandy had been wonderful guiding me through my grading while bringing out the horny pleasure slut in slave heat in me. I don’t know what it is about this place but, I was still a leaking sieve needing sexual relief even after cumming twice while on display. It was hard trying to talk as the Devox antidote restored my ability to speak again. After re-checking my slave grade Mandy secured the bite gag back in my mouth.
Mandy was running her fingers gently through my hair when a sad expression came over her face. I wondered what could be wrong.
“Now for the bad news. You have been repo’d, your Any Chance auction has been revoked and you are scheduled for auction this afternoon where you will be sold for five years. This is for real; it is not part of the Deluxe Reality package. I did not want to tell you until your grading was complete to avoid upsetting you during your performance. Bobby here will take you to a room where our management will explain what happened and how they are proceeding. I truly hope a good kind master buys you,” Mandy advised as she handed my leash to the slave handler who led me down a corridor.
“I figured you were too fine a piece of slave pussy to be going home today. The only way a Prime pleasure slut like you leaves the Big D is collared, cuffed, gagged and in a poodle cage,” laughed Bobby as led me back into the bowels of the Big D slave market.
I was in shock. Where was Amelia and how had this happened? Was I really going to be sold? I was quickly enveloped with dread. The fear of actually being sold as a slave terrified me. Or was this part of the Deluxe Reality Package and the Any Chance auction promotion? The uncertainty heightened my arousal with my cunt tingling on overdrive now as I actively wondered what was really wrong with me.
(To be continued)
Once again I want to thank Carl for kindly editing this story.
Bobby led me behind the counter to the SIN tattoo station and started setting it up, inputting my personal information into the machine.
“Did you know that about a third of the Any Chance bids are accepted? According to our client satisfaction surveys less than five percent of the clients intend to accept the bids but almost thirty-four percent accept them. Do you really trust your mother-in-law?” asked Bobby as he removed my bite gag.
“Yes, I trust Amelia, Master,” I replied.
That question itself planted a seed of doubt in my mind that I quickly shook off. My relationship with Amelia was strong. She had been there for me when my mother passed away quickly filling a void left by my mother’s death. We had grown close, with Amelia becoming something of a hybrid between a mother and a sister. Most importantly I trusted her implicitly.
“Last month a man brought in his MILF for a slave grading update and Any Chance auction to set her value as collateral for a home loan. She was Prime with Venus Academy training. Unbeknownst to her he had videotaped her in an orgy with the pool boy and the gardeners. She was doing her block routine with that video playing on the screen above her the whole time,” explained Bobby.
Bobby pulled my lip down and the machine quickly imprinted my SIN on the inside of my lower lip while he continued his story.
“The video demonstrated that she could enthusiastically swallow a sword and really enjoyed DPs and even an air-tight. I mean that was one talented slut and the auctioneer played to it to drive up her price. Everyone recognized the Venus Academy brand on her right ass cheek and her sexual skills definitely exceeded what you would expect from a Venus graduate. She didn’t need any more training if you know what I mean,” chuckled Bobby.
He then took the gag securing it back in my mouth.
“So the final bid came in really high and the auctioneer announced, ‘This is an Any Chance sale and the time starts now’ and before they got her off the auction block the bid was accepted. The auctioneer then announced that the bid had been accepted. The look of shock on her face was priceless,” laughed Bobby.
Why was Bobby telling me this story? Why was my pussy tingling as I listened to how this woman was betrayed into five years of slavery? Hearing about these women that walked into the Big D expecting to walk out free women and instead ended up enslaved should have horrified me. Instead they were inflaming my lust. What was wrong with me?
“Then she put up a struggle with the wranglers who collar shocked her, knocking her out to the laughter of the crowd. She came too strapped to the branding bench as the blacksmith burned the Big D logo into her left buttock. That was why I asked if you trusted your mother-in-law,” chortled Bobby.
Once the gag was back in place he grabbed my leash and let me down a hallway.
“First stop, the cattle wash, need to get rid of that pussy post stench and get you all dolled up for sale,” he said, with a knowing look in his eyes as he led me into the bowels of the Big D.
Amelia was right, I was not playing anymore, this was real and I was so aroused. Was I a submissive that needed to break free? How would I know?
We arrived at the cattle wash and my handler attached me to the coffle of slave girls waiting for their cleaning. Almost as soon as I was attached to the coffle, a different handler unhooked me, removed my gag, and took me to the front of the line for cleaning.
With my pussy tingling I was strung up off my feet, hosed down, soaped up with a green shampoo that was nice and gritty and smelled awful. When I was lowered to the ground, my feet were secured to the ground spread far apart and then a gaggle of eighteen-year-old boys went to work with brushes scrubbing my body.
“Need to make sure that we get rid of all of your crotch critters,” announced one young man.
He focused his attention on my ass, cunt and clit quickly honing in on my clit with the brush while jamming two fingers up my ass. I promptly arched my back dropping a big climax critter on him with a loud, “Yes!”
They untied me and directed me to bend over for my very first ever enema, quickly followed by two more to make sure there were no colon critters hiding within me. They then rinsed me off, blow dried me and handed me off to some women for a brush up consisting of combing out my hair and applying a little makeup. Once again, I needed to thank Amelia for the pre-grading beauty salon trip yesterday where I was waxed and prepped for today.
When my touch-up was complete, a slave handler whisked me in for my slave photos for entry into the national registry, once again skipping to the front of the line. My pussy was all tingly and dripping as I decided to enjoy bringing out my inner slave slut posing for the photos. I only recall one or two photos where my face was in the picture.
In one face picture, if you want to call it that, I was on my back with my legs behind shoulders held in place by my arms looking into the camera posing my sultry “come fuck me” look with my cunt and ass lewdly on display, pussy juice leaking down onto my puckered starburst. Did I mention that as a dancer and a ballerina I am very flexible? Then I rolled over for my ass shots onto my hands and knees, face on the ground, pulling myself open for the photographer.
“You have the wettest, drippiest cunt I have seen in months,” the cute twenty something photographer proclaimed.
“I bet you tell that to all the slave girls, Master,” I giggled, getting into character as a mindless pleasure slut in heat.
Silently wishing he would just drop his pants and fuck this horny pleasure slut, I could not believe how aroused I was wanting him to impale me with his hard cock. What was wrong with me?
Next thing I know he got his close ups of my spread open pussy and asshole and we were done, leaving my slave heat unsated. I wondered if Calum would enjoy the show I put on for the photographer when he saw the video.
Bobby quickly gagged me again and led me to the grading center where there was another coffle of girls lined up to go in for grading. He directed me to kneel at the end of the line of girls and attached my leash to the girl in front of me.
“Stay here, an official grader will come get you when they are ready,” he directed. Obviously, he was joking, I thought—I was gagged, cuffed, and leashed, so how could I go anywhere?
Literally minutes later, a cute bubbly twenty something brown-haired woman collected me wearing a pink polo shirt with the Big D logo identifying her as a Slave Grader. She unhooked me from the coffle, directed me to stand and checked my ear tag and SIN number.
“Lot 3927, I am Mandy, a certified and licensed slave grader. I will be conducting your slave grading today,” she advised.
Removing my bite gag, Mandy gave me a drink of water while continuing her introduction.
“We are going through your grading now in this order, blood draw and urine sample, slave yoga, body measurements, heat and fluid evaluation and the Vet will check you out. Do you have any special slave yoga positions in your block routine that you want me to incorporate?” she asked.
“I have a pirouette to tilt move that I use for my boyfriend,” I advised.
That had not been part of my game plan for my slave grading today. What possessed me to disclose THAT move I wondered as my pussy continued to tingle out of control.
“Ok, at the end of the slave yoga I will bring you to ‘stand’ and then command ‘tilt’ and you do your thing and then I will bring you to ‘present’. Let’s go,” as she led me into the grading bay.
Amelia had really come through for me by purchasing the Deluxe Reality slave-grading package and I guess the Any Chance auction I thought. I still had serious reservations about being sold on the auction block, even if the winning bid would not be accepted. It seemed that at every stop I was pulled to the front of the line and quickly processed through contrary to what I had expected. At the rate my slave grading was going I might be done before lunchtime.
The Big D was currently in category Pussy Premium Red (severe Prime pleasure slut shortage) for the auction this afternoon. A large shipment of slave girls was scheduled to arrive late this afternoon so all potentially available slaves were being expedited for this afternoon’s auction on Broadway at 2:00 pm. The Whiny Girl from the pussy post was getting the same treatment whenever I saw her. I figured her mother must have gotten her spoiled daughter the Deluxe Reality package with the Any Chance auction also.
Once inside the door the grading bay consisted of some preliminary stations and then a row of twenty-four grading stations all facing into the Big D shopping mall and food court with a railing two yards away from the grading stations that kept the public back. It started just like going into a doctor’s office, height, weight, blood pressure and temperature. Then off to the labs where a phlebotomist drew a blood sample for testing. Mandy then handed me a urine sample cup.
“Take this cup over to that grate in the floor in front of the railing, put the cup on the grate, facing the crowd, squat over the cup, fill it and stand. If you have more pee, once I have picked up the cup squat back down with your hands behind your head and finish. Stay in that position until I wipe you down, go now,” she directed.
Wanting to please her, I obediently walked over to the grate with my pussy tingling and blushing a deeper color of red than my hair; I put the cup down and squatted down while facing the crowd.
"This hot piece of tail is a carrot crotch," commented an older male voice as I squatted over the grate.
"Never heard that one before Dad. She sure has a hot pussy though," replied a younger voice.
"Carrot crotch refers to a woman with natural red hair," explained his father.
“That phrase is so old school Dad. Now we call a red haired carpet a ginger nookie, fire crotch, burning bush or a firecracker cooter,” responded the son.
I thought I heard Pixie Girl’s voice. I saw her looking intently at me from the crowd with her hand moving under her skirt in a manner that could only mean she was in the act of self-gratification. The sexual exhilaration of this place was having an effect on her also, fueling her arousal.
When Mandy picked up the cup, I put my hands behind my head, squatted back down and finished whereupon Mandy took a cloth and cleaned my legs and vagina. The dehumanizing way these men were describing me was igniting my slave heat. The whole time Pixie Girl and I stared into each other’s eyes.
"Most slave girls are kept bald down below but when selling a woman, you can determine their natural hair color by their pubic hair. For this one the carpet matches the curtains," advised the father.
“You mean the rug matches the drapes,” laughed the son.
I was already aroused after wanting the photographer to impale me. The humiliation of exposing myself while peeing in front of a crowd coupled by the guest commentary and Pixie Girl lustfully staring into my eyes fueled my slave heat.
Suddenly Pixie Girl had a faraway look in her eyes, biting her lip as she shuddered while her mother watched on with a bemused look on her face. I easily came with her when Mandy wiped my cunt, lingering on my clit a little too long as she played to the crowd. The whole time the crowd was jeering and cheering during my performance amplifying my arousal.
“Oh my god! She came squatting over the pee grate. What a tramp,” Pixie Girl squealed in delight trying to conceal her own climax. When she pulled her hand out from under her skirt it glistened with pussy juice and she blushed when her mother casually handed her a Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe.
“Now that’s what I call a fire crotch,” chuckled the father.
“Nah, that’s a firecracker cooter due to its combustibility,” laughed the son as Pixie Girl looked worriedly at them thinking she had been caught until it dawned upon her that they were referring to me.
“Let’s watch the rest of her grading,” suggested the father.
Mandy led me over to the slave yoga demonstration site, drawing a crowd of spectators including Pixie Girl, her mother and my father and son fans. My pussy tingled and dripped as I began the show. Mandy ran me through a series of positions; present, squat, slave kneel, slave fours, roll over, and display. I gracefully moved through them instinctively responding to her commands while chanting appropriate mantras with accompanying facial expressions. My cunt was wet and leaking for the entire performance. Finally, Mandy ordered, “Stand” followed by “Tilt.”
Facing the crowd, I raised my right leg 180 degrees from my left leg with the knee bent toes on my right foot pointing to the ground. Still blushing profusely holding my arms over my head I then straightened my right leg until the toe pointed to the ceiling, my wet cunt and ass lewdly exposed.
With my right hand I grabbed my right foot holding the position when Mandy walked up to me running two fingers from her right hand through my dripping pussy lips. She scooped my cunt cream, then turned to the crowd holding up her wet juice covered fingers. She put the slick fingers in her mouth sucking off my juices, pulled them out and ran her tongue up and down her fingers to get any last drops to the roar of the crowd.
“Stunningly beautiful, graceful, dripping wet and she tastes good too,” she announced with a big smile.
“Stand,” she ordered and I returned my leg to the ground.
The rest of the grading was a blur. Mandy took body measurements using a measuring tape and a caliper. Then she strapped me into the table and spread my legs wide open for the crowd, lewdly displaying my juices dripping from my slit onto my winking browneye as I was panting on the verge of yet another orgasm during the entire time. Mandy used a series of different devices running them over my vagina and then probing both my vagina and anus. She stepped aside. The Vet quickly examined my vagina and we were done.
Mandy unstrapped me and stood me up, attached a leash to my collar as she ordered me to wave to the crowd and started leading me to the exit. I felt like Miss America walking down the runway as I waved to the cheering crowd all the way to the exit where she secured my hands in handcuffs behind my back.
After giving me a drink of water, Mandy excitedly showed me my profile on her iPad. The Public Display portion of my slave grading on the Big D slave profile read as follows:
Name: Allison Stevens
Status: For Sale -- Rush Processing Pussy Premium Red -- Debt Repossession
Slave Identification Number: US-ILS81-X9Z3
Lot number CZ-3927
Grade: Pending
Age: 22
Height: 5'7"
Weight 109 lbs.
Body measurements: 33-24-32
Bra size: 30C
Dress Size: 2
Hair: Red
Eyes: Deep blue
Body Fat: 18%
Slave Yoga Grade: A
Slave Heat: 98th percentile
Pussy Moisture: 99th percentile
Education: Bachelors of Fine Arts Dance, University of Texas, Austin. Three years participation in the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City
Other Grader Comments: A redhead with blue eyes is the rarest hair and eye color combination. Extremely graceful and fluid moving through slave yoga positions. Magnificently shaped firm ass on a very fit toned yet feminine body. Very obedient and easily embarrassed; demonstrates all of the characteristics of a natural submissive.
“You are doing great. You might be my first Prime grade!” she exclaimed animatedly. Pulling out a can of Devox she said, “Open wide, I am going to spray this down your throat so you will not be able to talk for your public display. Remember to smile and nod, do not get upset when being groped, we will watch to make sure you are not abused. You are so aroused and wet I fully expect you to stay that way throughout this part of the grading. So just sit back and enjoy the rest of the process, the hard part is over,” she advised.
My cunt was on tingle overdrive when I saw that my profile had me available for sale. I needed to thank Amelia for the Deluxe Reality grading package that she had purchased. It was truly ratcheting up my arousal level feeling as if I really was up for sale being rushed to meet an auction deadline.
Mandy took me out onto the display floor, attached my feet to cuffs in the ground about two feet apart, secured my wrists in cuffs attached to a wire that ran up into the ceiling above my head. When she pushed a tab on her iPad my hands were pulled up over my head leaving my whole body on display, unable to move.
While I hung there on display for two hours I had time to reflect. What would it be like to really be sold on the auction block as a pleasure slut slave with no control over her fate? Actually living the uncertainty of not knowing who my master would be. Would he be cruel or kind? How would he sexually use my body for his pleasure? Would a bordello purchase me as a sex toy for clients? What would that really be like?
Part of me hated Amelia for doing this to me, forcing me to really examine my true feelings about slavery while I was also so deeply aroused by this prospect. Why was I so turned on right now?
The first people through were a bunch of young gawkers who pawed on me incessantly. One young man gave my clit a hard massage, sending me over the edge into a back-arching climax to everyone’s amusement. Little did they know that I was deep in thought contemplating my future life as a pleasure slut slave. This was becoming too real; even though I knew I was not going to be sold as a slave.
The father son tandem were back. It turned out that the father was a slave trader giving his son some on the job training evaluating the slave livestock. The father gently but firmly hefted my breasts and squeezed my already erect nipples, sending more tingles to my clit.
Looking over his shoulder I noticed Pixie Girl and her mother intently watching these men evaluate my attributes as slave pussy livestock available for sale. Once again Pixie Girl’s right hand was under her skirt, although this time I could not detect any movement. With her left hand she was holding onto her mother’s right hand.
“This is one fine piece of slave pussy son. Notice the shape and firmness of her breasts, the nipples are hard as diamonds. Her skin is not extremely pale meaning she can tan and spend time in the sun without burning,” lectured the father.
“The freckles are really nice, not too many or too few,” added the son.
“You can examine her body to evaluate her. Open your mouth for me honey,” the father directed.
When I opened my mouth he pulled my lips back examining my teeth like a horse. Why was this causing my pussy to leak like a sieve?
“Perfect teeth and no cavities. Her breath even smells good. Speaking of odors, can you smell her slave heat just standing next to her? I want you to gently feel her attributes and then check her for slave heat and moisture,” directed the father.
The young man started on my breasts massaging them, then lightly running his fingers on them until he arrived at my nipples. Instead of squeezing them he lightly ran his fingertips over my nipples sending shivers down my spine to my pussy as I moaned in pleasure. God that felt good!
Pixie Girl’s free hand started moving slowly under her skirt while her mother’s nipples were now protruding prominently.
“Willard Turner, how are you doing?” I heard the voice of another older man.
“Ed, good to see you. This is my son Bret, just finished his sophomore year at UT and he is learning part of the family business. Bret, this is my old friend Ed Jones,” announced Willard.
“Nice to meet you Sir. We were just evaluating this piece of slave pussy,” advised Bret.
“Ed is an old hand at this and can give you some unbiased feedback when you are done. Get to it,” directed Willard.
Bret continued his evaluation running his hands down my stomach to my mons; moving his hands to my ass as he stepped behind me. He squatted down behind me, pulling my cheeks apart and blew on my asshole. When I felt that breeze, I swear my rosebud winked at him as I groaned loudly in frustration followed by a sympathy moan from Pixie Girl that caught Ed’s attention.
Bret moved in front of me while he gently worked a finger into my pussy and pulled it out. Looking me in the eye he put his finger in his mouth and sucked my juices off as I whimpered in frustration badly needing relief even though I just had an orgasm fifteen minutes ago.
“So what do you think?” asked Ed.
“Mr. Jones, she is Prime or Prime Plus. She has a beautiful face, her blue eyes and red hair combination are extremely rare, her body is incredible from her breasts, to her ab crack, her natural thigh gap, a nice smattering of freckles on her face and body and a spectacular ass. She is extremely responsive with a nice soft and extremely moist pussy, good teeth and her pussy tastes delicious,” described the son in a monotone delivery much the way he would describe a car or computer for sale.
“Good job. Now watch and learn,” directed Ed as he stepped in front of me.
Ed put his finger into my molten pussy, pulled it out and then started circling around my clit. I started pushing my pelvis forward trying to connect my clit to his finger chasing yet another orgasm. Pixie Girl stared intently at me, her hand moving with greater urgency under her skirt as she clutched her mother’s hand.
Ed slowly pulled his finger away and I arched my back, standing on my toes, chasing contact with his finger until I could go no further with his finger unmoving on my clit as I moaned in frustration. Pixie Girl continued staring at me while feverishly working her hand while arching her back, almost mimicking my movements. Natasha had a bemused smirk on her face as she noticed her daughter’s back arching slightly while the crowd focused on me.
“Slut, if you want to cum you will have to massage your devil’s doorbell on my finger. I will hold it steady making contact but you need to do all the work. You only have a few minutes and then I am leaving,” Ed chuckled.
My slave heat ignited as I frantically humped his finger with my clit, somehow arching my back even further increasing the pressure of his finger on my nub. True to his word he held it steady as I desperately rubbed my clit on his finger striving for more friction on my nub to push me over the edge until I exploded in a frenzy on his finger moaning in pleasure with a smile of satisfaction on my face, the whole time watching Pixie Girl frantically service herself trying to catch up with me. I may even have squirted some dew when I erupted on his finger.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” squealed Pixie Girl as she joined me in orgasmic bliss erupting all over her hand, back arching slightly when her climax started. Soon she was bent forward somewhat at the waist, subtly shuddering in her frenzy, still clutching her mother’s hand. Once again the crowd’s attention was on me while her performance went unnoticed. All the while her mother looked on, shaking her head in amazement.
The applause and laughter of the audience that had gathered around me brought me back to my senses as it did for the now blushing Pixie Girl. Recovering from this intense orgasm I realized exactly how wanton a display I put on for everyone who observed it. The humiliation of what I had just done enveloped me as I realized exactly how much I looked like the needy little pleasure slut chasing orgasmic pleasure like my life depended on it as I discarded any shred of my remaining human dignity.
Natasha handed Pixie Girl another Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe to clean her hand with. While Pixie Girl took care of business Natasha leaned down and appeared from a distance to be whispering in Pixie Girl’s ear. From the expression on both their faces it did not appear that Natasha was particularly pleased with her daughter’s recent behavior. Suddenly it dawned upon me that I was the only person besides Natasha to witness the masturbation.
“Good slut,” chuckled Ed as he sucked my juices off his finger while I recovered.
“That was really awe-inspiring Mr. Jones,” exclaimed a clearly impressed Bret.
“Son, that maneuver is what we in the business call the ‘Midas Touch’. When slave pussy reacts like this one did demonstrating the intensity of her slave heat she is golden,” laughed Willard.
“This slave pussy is clearly a Prime. I watched how she responded when you were lightly touching her nipples and the way she chased that last orgasm just demonstrates her responsiveness and the intensity of her slave heat. Once her slave mind takes over after obedience school and she gets trained at either Venus or Pearson’s, this pleasure slut will make some master a very happy man,” explained Ed, while I blushed in embarrassment listening to the men discuss my attributes like I was a piece of meat or a car.
“Bret, why don’t you check out that brunette strung up over there”—he was referring to Whiny Girl. “Ed and I will give you some more pointers,” advised Willard as he and his son walked away.
“I’ll catch up with you guys,” said Ed, pointing towards Sandy while glancing at Pixie Girl.
Ed suddenly eased over to Natasha and Pixie Girl with a knowing grin on his face. Trying to be discreet he engaged them in conversation as Pixie Girl finished cleaning her hand with the Palmpalm wipe.
“Young lady, you got a serious hitch in your get-along with that behavior in the public display section in a slave market while wearing a leather choker. That is not something that free women do,” Ed chuckled, while Pixie Girl just stood there blushing.
Natasha had a horrified look on her face looking around to see if anyone else noticed finally resting her eyes on me.
Turning towards Natasha he said, “Your daughter has a calling for the collar. I can tell. Just like I can tell that you’ve worn a collar, Ma’am. May I be of assistance finding you a good buyer for her?”
“Honey, go test Sandy’s slave heat and try to make her cum. Play nice, like you would want to be treated. Remember, next week that will be you strung up naked on display,” directed Natasha, pointing towards Sandy.
Pixie Girl’s eyes lit up when she saw her former babysitter’s predicament, the ever ebullient teen quickly hurrying over to Sandy. Fascinated, I watched Pixie Girl’s small hands manipulating Sandy’s prodigious breasts. Pixie Girl started gently massaging one breast with both hands, and then the other, while Sandy once again blushed red from her face to her chest from the touch of the teen that she used to babysit. Soon Pixie Girl was in a trance as her hands were gently massaging Sandy’s nipples as her former baby-sitter became flushed with excitement as she moaned in arousal, her large nipples as hard as diamonds. Pixie Girl’s efforts, coupled with Sandy’s response, soon drew a crowd of onlookers.
Then some other slave traders examined me as if I was really for sale, even checking my teeth again, and of course testing my cunt for moisture, inputting information on their iPads all while I listened in on Ed’s conversation with Natasha.
“My husband and I obtained a Preventative Enslavement Emergency Protective Order (EPO) for Becky the week before her eighteenth birthday to shield her from her slave tendencies that we observed during her senior year of high school,” explained Natasha as she watched her daughter work over Sandy’s breasts.
“A wise move getting that EPO,” responded Ed. “Most parents fail to recognize the danger until it is too late.”
"Senior year she became president of her school book club, turning it into a slave romance novel reading circle for girls. Her classmates voted her the most likely to wear a collar this year in the yearbook. The truly scary part was when she proudly announced it at the dinner table like it was a real honor. She is an "A" student in school, taking AP classes, a concert quality pianist, but became totally immersed in unrealistic slave fantasies. She even received a 100% on her slave yoga final last week after practicing naked for hours every night. Now I have to replace the carpet in her room due to the noxious pussy juice odors and stains, "exclaimed Natasha.
I continued to listen to their conversation as yet another slave trader checked my honey pot for moisture. It had remained a leaking sieve the entire time I was on display. Stepping behind me he started using my juices to lubricate my back door, working one and then two fingers up past my sphincter.
“Not an anal virgin,” he chuckled in my ear as I blushed in embarrassment thinking of the times Calum used my ass while I played his little slave girl.
"Then I found an entry in her diary where she described a plan to come to the Big D to voluntarily indenture shortly after her 18th birthday with another of her friends from the book club. She was accepted into Yale, Stanford and MIT. The foolish girl was going to throw it all away chasing a ridiculous slave girl fantasy," sighed Natasha.
“Self-Enslavement Syndrome is extremely rare, but every time I see it in a young woman it shocks me. I can sense her smoldering slave heat, her natural submissiveness, but I did not pick up on her condition,” exclaimed Ed.
“Now that Becky is technically a slave while the EPO remains in place she started masturbating in public because she knows as a slave this behavior is permissible. She demonstrates some discretion and is good at concealing her actions but as you can see she does not have any restraint when the mood catches her,” sighed Natasha.
“I have been observing your daughter. Becky is a beautiful, ebullient, graceful and captivating young woman who demonstrates a fun, mischievous attitude towards life. From what I can see, and I have been doing this over thirty years, she has a tight little body and more than enough slave heat to score in the Prime range next week,” appraised Ed. “Do not worry about the Self-Enslavement Syndrome hurting her grade, if anything it could lead to a higher score.”
“Thank you, I will take that as a compliment under the circumstances,” smiled Natasha graciously, with a relieved look on her face.
“What happened to her friend?” inquired Ed.
“She ended up a slave in a harem in Dubai. Her grandfather had the brilliant idea of getting her an Any Chance auction and when trying to cancel the sale on his smartphone accidently hit the ‘sell’ button,” said Natasha, shaking her head in disgust.
“All sales are final,” commented Ed.
“Right. The poor girl’s mother was fit to be tied when she found out. Right now she and her husband are planning a trip to Dubai to try and get her daughter returned. There is a pending lawsuit against the Big D and the app developer,” sighed Natasha.
Pixie Girl now had two fingers from her left hand inside Sandy’s pussy massaging her G spot while methodically manipulating her clit with the other hand. Poor Sandy was withering on the edge of orgasm moaning in need. It was clear that Pixie Girl was in no hurry to push Sandy over the edge into a frenzy.
“She is acting like kid in a candy store here,” grinned Ed.
“Standing in the display room brings back memories of being sold right here at the Big D over twenty years ago. I recall the utter terror of not knowing my fate, being pawed by strangers while strung up on display all the while the sexual exhilaration of this place fueling my slave heat,” sighed Natasha, trying to change the topic.
“You graded in the Prime range I suspect,” grinned Ed.
“Prime Minus, and I proudly wear the Big D brand on my left cheek letting the world know that I am a Sandy Foot Girl,” exclaimed Natasha proudly.
“I thought so,” smiled Ed.
“My husband knows that all he has to do to ignite my slave heat is too lightly trace his fingertips along my brands. Gets me going every time.”
“Many men like fondling the brands on their slaves,” chuckled Ed.
“You never forget the distinctive smell and feel of the sand between your toes and on your body on Broadway when performing your block routine. The gavel coming down as the auctioneer yells SOLD! To this day I remember the orgasm I had, laying on my back squirting in the sand like it was just yesterday,” groaned Natasha.
“She’s about to blow,” chuckled Ed, nodding in Sandy’s direction.
Sure enough, Pixie Girl had performed her own version of the Midas touch, pushing Sandy over the edge into a back arching, body shuddering, massive explosion of orgasmic bliss. Sandy even squirted a little on Pixie Girl’s hands.
Pixie Girl had a big, look what I did, grin on her face as she skipped back over to Ed and Natasha. For a moment there I thought she was going to offer Ed a taste of Sandy’s juices from her fingers. Natasha promptly handed Pixie Girl yet another Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe to clean her hands with while talking to Ed.
“I was one of the lucky ones avoiding the horrors of being used as a pleasure slut slave. My owners purchased me as a consort for their son, sending me to Broadstone for training. We eventually fell in love getting married. My life could not have turned out better. The training I received at Broadstone shaped me into a stronger, more confident woman,” smiled Natasha.
“Mom, are you and Daddy planning on sending me to Broadstone this summer?” inquired Pixie Girl.
“Honey, we haven't decided yet. Remember we go to court in two weeks, after your slave grading next week, to discuss your Protective Enslavement with the Judge. Dr. Nikki Sheldon will have her recommendation for the judge by then,” answered Natasha, sounding like she was talking to a child, not a young woman that was accepted into MIT, Stanford and Yale.
“Well, it looks like you do not need my assistance then. Out of curiosity, when would you plan on matching her with her future master?” Asked Ed.
“Probably after she graduates from college when she is more mature and better understands the ramifications of being paired with her future husband. We will likely have her participating in Broadstone’s summer concubine program while attending college,” answered Natasha as she noticed me following the conversation as yet another slave trader checked my oil.
One professional trader told another that I was up for sale at the 2:00 p.m. auction as they examined me. I thought, “Boy they really do a good job making it seem real for you when you have the Deluxe Reality grading package,” as my pussy tingled, gushing more cunt cream on his fingers as he explored my pussy.
Natasha walked up to me, looking me in the eye asking, “Were you listening in on my conversation?”
I nodded yes.
“Good, I really hope you learned something. Based on my experience, if you are lucky you may end up at Broadstone. It saved my life. If given the opportunity, take it, you will become part of an elite sisterhood that takes care of their own,” she kindly advised with a knowing look in her eyes as she gently ran her fingers through my hair.
Natasha took Pixie Girl’s hand and steered her out of the display area. Pixie Girl turned and waved goodbye to me as her mother led her away.
"Mom, what's a Spinner? I overheard a man tell his friend I was a Spinner, born to wear a collar. What did he mean?" I overheard Pixie Girl ask, as they walked away.
Listening to Natasha gave me more to contemplate while hanging there. I tried to imagine the utter terror that Natasha felt not knowing her fate, strung up on display while being pawed for hours by strangers. The sexual exhilaration of this place was fueling my slave heat just as it had hers back then. I wondered what this Broadstone School was and what kind of parent obtained a Protective Enslavement order for a child. After observing Pixie Girl’s behavior I could see that there was some logic to the concept.
When you are strung up on display for two hours you have plenty of time to reflect on your life. Natasha’s comment that Broadstone shaped her into a stronger, more confident woman struck a chord with me. My problem as a dancer was a lack of confidence, not talent. I simply choked in front of large audiences or during auditions.
Whenever I accompanied Calum to large social engagements I always clung to his arm, not wanting to be left to my own devices. The truth was that these events intimidated me, I dreaded being on my own engaging total strangers in conversation. Early in our relationship we became separated at one of these events and Amelia rescued me. In hindsight she always seems to find me when I become separated from Colum, involving me in the group conversation, always making sure I am actively engaged in the event. How was she always so poised, ready for any situation that might arise?
My limited understanding of slave schools was that they trained slaves, especially pleasure sluts, to be docile and compliant, relying on their master for any and all guidance. Pleasure sluts did not make decisions, they existed to entertain their masters immediately obeying every request, regardless of how small, trivial, painful or disgusting. So how did a school designed to instill obedience and subservience also make Natasha strong and confident? And how does this elite sisterhood take care of their own if they are slaves? Could the techniques applied at Broadstone be used to help me with my confidence and make me a better woman, fiancée and wife?
So much for deep thoughts. Being strung up on display like a slave for sale had me fondly reliving one of my favorite slave girl episodes with Calum. One evening I had dinner all laid out on the table when he arrived home. I greeted Calum, or should I say my master, using my best slave speak, wearing only my favorite sexy black leather choker featuring grommet detailing, O-ring accents, and a long front black leather tassels, on my knees lewdly displaying my sopping wet pussy, informing master that dinner was served while this slave was available to meet any of master’s immediate needs.
Master was hungry so we proceeded with the meal but with a twist as my master sat his little slave upon his lap and proceeded to feed both of us. He would cut the steak into bite size pieces feeding himself using a fork. When he fed me he used his fingers making his slave lick her master’s fingers clean. Picking up a piece of broccoli or a mushroom with his fingers he would place the food into my open mouth. My master fed his slave what he wanted, when he wanted, throughout the entire meal. It was simply one of the most erotic experiences of my life leading to some of the best sex ever.
With our appetites sated I stood to clear the table when master noticed that my pussy juice had leaked all over his thigh, soaking through his pants. That led to a bare fanny spanking with tears streaming down my cheeks while also inflaming my slave heat. What followed was a passionate session of slave sex in our bed. This slave was honored with many orgasms, a deposit of my master’s sperm in this slave’s slave cunt and another deposit in this slave’s slave hole during which I actually had two anal orgasms.
Now I wondered what life would be like if I was sold at auction to Calum as his slave while yet another slave trader tweaked my nipples and checked my pussy for slave heat. I almost came yet again wishing he would ring my doorbell.
Breaking me from my thoughts, Mandy released me when my time was up, securing my hands behind my back in handcuffs and attaching a leash to my collar. She took me into a corridor, sprayed my throat with the Devox antidote and gave me some water to help get my voice back.
“Wow! That was one hell of display of out of control slave heat in there. Great job of selling yourself as a horny pleasure slut,” excitedly exclaimed Mandy. “Slowly drink the whole bottle of water please. It will help with the Devox.”
When I finished the water Mandy looked at her iPad.
“Good news, you scored a Prime rating, great job, you should be so proud of yourself and you are my first Prime,” she breathlessly cooed.
“Thank you for your help, Mistress,” I gushed in a raspy voice while smiling happily.
Mandy had been wonderful guiding me through my grading while bringing out the horny pleasure slut in slave heat in me. I don’t know what it is about this place but, I was still a leaking sieve needing sexual relief even after cumming twice while on display. It was hard trying to talk as the Devox antidote restored my ability to speak again. After re-checking my slave grade Mandy secured the bite gag back in my mouth.
Mandy was running her fingers gently through my hair when a sad expression came over her face. I wondered what could be wrong.
“Now for the bad news. You have been repo’d, your Any Chance auction has been revoked and you are scheduled for auction this afternoon where you will be sold for five years. This is for real; it is not part of the Deluxe Reality package. I did not want to tell you until your grading was complete to avoid upsetting you during your performance. Bobby here will take you to a room where our management will explain what happened and how they are proceeding. I truly hope a good kind master buys you,” Mandy advised as she handed my leash to the slave handler who led me down a corridor.
“I figured you were too fine a piece of slave pussy to be going home today. The only way a Prime pleasure slut like you leaves the Big D is collared, cuffed, gagged and in a poodle cage,” laughed Bobby as led me back into the bowels of the Big D slave market.
I was in shock. Where was Amelia and how had this happened? Was I really going to be sold? I was quickly enveloped with dread. The fear of actually being sold as a slave terrified me. Or was this part of the Deluxe Reality Package and the Any Chance auction promotion? The uncertainty heightened my arousal with my cunt tingling on overdrive now as I actively wondered what was really wrong with me.
(To be continued)
Once again I want to thank Carl for kindly editing this story.
