Date: Thu, 6 Oct 2011 14:11:37 -0400 (EDT)
From: Charles E. Campbell <Preage1313@hotmail.com>
Subject: For Sale

For Sale (F/F, D/s, Enema, Exhibition, Slavery, Consensual)
By Charles E. Campbell _Preage1313@hotmail.com_
============================================================================
Synopsis: A slave is finally getting what she has longed for all her life,
being sold into
============================================================================

I awoke slowly; very, very slowly. The reality of my location and my
situation gradually overtaking my drowsy state. I hadn't slept well at all. But
then again, how could one expect to enjoy a restful night's sleep when one
is in  a metal dog crate no more than nine cubic feet in size, with one's
arms bound  behind her, hands to elbows, tightly gagged, with a thick butt plug
up her ass,  and a glass dildo in her pussy?
As consciousness began to take hold of me, I  remembered where I was and
why I was here, and a nervous twinge emanated deep in  my bowels. The slave
auction would be soon, very soon. In a short time I would  be placed up on the
block, open for bid, and hopefully, bought. Sold, like  chattel, to the
highest bidder.  Beginning the remainder of my days in  total servitude. Never
again to have contact with family or friends. Never again  to have choices
or opinions, or even to have wants and needs. My sole purpose  for the rest
of my life, my only reason for being, will be to serve my owner, in  whatever
capacity He or She requires.  Without hesitation or pause,  question or
denial. Giving up everything I own, including my own person and all  control of
my body. And yet, I not only want this, I need this. I need this so  badly
that if I hadn't been fortunate enough to become what I am, I would
probably have killed myself.  I guess I should try to explain who I am and  how I
got to this place in my life.  My name is Sheila Quinlan, at least  that's
the one my parents gave me. However now, according to the label on my  crate,
I am just simply `9.' I have had fantasies of slavery and servitude from
my earliest of days. By the time I was six I would tie myself up whenever I
was  alone in our house. By the age of eight, my next door neighbor, a boy a
year  younger than I, was enlisted top help me in our games of "Cowboys and
Indians."  I was always the helpless farm girl, and he the marauding Indian,
who would  kidnap me and tie me up. I was always most disappointed when he
would untie me  and want to play kickball.  Once, I convinced him to tie me
up and leave me  alone. I told him he had to go out on another war party and
look for more white  slaves to sell to other Indian tribes. I was really
excited that time, because I  couldn't untie myself, and I was alone in the
woods behind the school, near a  path that lots of kids used to get to the
playing fields.
We continued our  games, never escalating or deviating from the script,
until one day, when he was  twelve. I'll never forget that day. The game
started out the same, he'd sneak up  on me in the field, tie my hands behind my
back and gag me, then he'd lead me  back to the Indian "camp," where he would
tie me to a tree.  Only this  time, we went past where the camp always was,
and went down by a culvert under  the highway that ran through our town.
When we reached our destination, he  tied my legs to two trees about two feet
apart. He left my gag on, and started  to feel my flat chest through my old
t-shirt. Unsatisfied, he untied my hands  and stared me in the eyes. Some
primal instinct told me what he wanted, (what I  wanted), and I pulled my
shirt over my head, letting it drop to the ground. He  just stared, his eyes
darting quickly between my tiny nipples and my eyes.  Finally, they settled on
my eyes, and I reached down and undid the button on my  jeans. His intense
glaze told me to continue, so I slid my jeans and panties  down as far as my
spread legs would allow. His face registered dumbstruck awe.
Then it was my turn. My eyes searched the area until I saw a bush about
five  feet behind him to his left. I let my eyes go from him to the bush a few
times  until he turned and looked at it. Then he looked back at me
quizzically. I put  my hands behind my head and laced my fingers together. He still
didn't get it,  so I said, "I real Indian brave would torture his white
slave I think." Ever so  slowly my intentions seeped into his head, and he broke
a branch from the bush  slowly With fierce trepidation, he began to whip my
back, my buttocks and the  backs of my thighs with it. In retrospect, it
was very light, leaving absolutely  no marks upon my body at all, and yet, it
was the most remarkable whipping I  have ever endured. It only lasted a few
strokes, as he was definitely not up for  it. In fact, once he untied me and
let me go, he never again wanted to play our  game, nor did he ever again
talk about it. A few months later, his father was  killed in a car crash, and
he and his mother moved out of state somewhere closer  to her family.
To date, I have had no success in finding a partner to my  needs, at least
not one who could take me to the level of submission I so badly  crave.
Sure, I found some guys who would spank me, or would call me names while  they
pretended to rape me, but it wasn't real. One guy made me go down on him at
a Stones concert in the Meadowlands, thinking that was Doming me. But none
of  this was right. I need the real thing, like what existed throughout many
centuries of human history. I need to be treated like property, sold, and
then  enslaved to someone for their needs, their use, no matter what is
required, no  matter what I am expected to do. And that...........is why I am
here now.   The dim light in the basement allowed me to look at the nine other
crates, each  containing a naked human, similarly trussed and awaiting their
turn on the  auction block. None of us knew anything about each other. Over
the past three  days or so, we had been delivered one at a time, in our
crates, by men with hand  trucks. We would then be placed in an orderly fashion
on the cold concrete  floor. Our gags were only removed for feeding time,
which was twice a day. We  would be taken from our crates, one at a time, and
escorted into a small room,  where our meal was waiting for us. The door
would close and lock, and we would  eat. A short time later, someone would
return for us, replace the gag, and lead  us to the toilet. They would untie
the thin leather strap that held the dildo  and butt plug in place, and sit
back, watching as we received ourselves. After  that, we would be led to the
exercise yard, for some calisthenics and  jogging.  Then it would be back to
our crates, bound and stuffed, until the  next meal.  Other than during the
two feeding times each day, our gags were  in place, insuring that there
would be no communication between us. Preventing  even the slightest chance
that we could humanize ourselves with talk, learning  names, ages, or where we
were from. No one spoke to us at anytime either, and we  were never touched.
Our escorts carried electric cattle prods which they  wouldn't hesitate to
use if the wanted us to quicken the pace during  calisthenics or jogging. No
sounds were heard, excepting for the sounds of  crates being locked and
unlocked, doors opening and closing, and the eerie  sounds of the elevator.
There were four crates that were there before I  arrived; three males and one
female. Five more were delivered after me, two more  males, and three
females.  The deliverymen never spoke when they would  bring in a new crate. It
was as if they were just delivering an appliance or  some other similar large
parcel. We would hear the creaks and rattles from the  old service elevator,
and the doors would groan as they opened. Two men would  roll the hand
truck out, and bring the new arrival over, placing that crate in a  numbered
painted square on the floor, each one about five or six feet from the  next, in
two rows. Then, unceremoniously, they would return to the elevator, and
leave us in the all-consuming quiet. The occupant of each crate was always
gagged and had the holes stuffed before entering their crate.
There was no  true way to estimate what time it was, or even whether it was
day or night. Our  meals, and exercises all took place in rooms in the
basement, so only the dim  light bulbs hanging from the ceiling illuminated the
space.  After three  meal/exercise/toilet periods passed without the arrival
of new crates, I heard  the familiar rumblings from the elevator, and
turned around as much as I could  to see who would come through the doors. It
turned out to a be a short stout  gray-haired woman I had never seen before in
a black long sleeved shirt and  black slacks. She was accompanied by a very
young blonde haired girl in a light  green sweater and jeans, with some sort
of clipboard. They walked slowly around  the crates, looking at each of us,
one after the other. The girl occasionally  writing something down on the
paper she carried.  When the inspection was  complete, the elder woman
cleared her throat and spoke.  "My name is  Catherine, although that is of no
consequence to any of you, as you will never  speak as long as you are in my
care. Over the next few days, you will be  properly prepared for sale at our
annual auction. I want to make sure that you  all know that you are quite
fortunate to be sold at my auction, because I do not  allow white slavers or any
other similarly unsavory characters to attend. My  bidders are the most
reputable from around the world, and I screen them all most  diligently before
including their names on my guest lists.  "Some of you  will be placed in
this country, and some will be placed in Europe, South  America, and Eastern
Asia. All of you will never be heard from again. You will  all be slaves for
the rest of your lives. Ginny will collar each of you, and  give you a
number. This will be your lot number for bidding at the auction  "Ginny, collar
and tag each of them and then start the preparations for each  one."
"Yes, Miss Catherine," the girl curtsied.
Catherine turned her  back and returned to the elevator, while Ginny went
to a cabinet on the opposite  side of the room. She produced a key from her
pants pocket and opened the door.  I couldn't see what she was doing, but she
came around by the crates carrying a  cardboard box, which she set on the
floor.  I heard her open a crate and  saw a male slave stand up. He was quite
tall, so his cramped quarters must have  been especially uncomfortable. He
had dark wavy hair and by the pronounced  definition of his well toned body
it was easy to see that he worked out  frequently. Ginny tried three collars
on him before she found a fit that she  liked. The she took a pair of
pliers and clamped a metal disk to his collar.
Reaching up, she grabbed hold of the ring in his collar and led him to the
door that opened into the meal room. When he had passed through it, she
closed  the door, and went to the second crate, repeating the procedure this
time with a  very slim and petite black girl, with a totally shaved head. Once
she was  collared and tagged, Ginny led her to the door and guided her
through it.   Four others were similarly collared and tagged before Ginny came
to my  cage.  Unceremoniously, she unlocked my crate and motioned for me to
climb  out and stand up. Immediately, she placed a hard brown leather collar
around my  neck and fastened it tightly in place. This wasn't a soft leather
like a suede,  instead it was a stiff hard leather that bit at the skin.
She then produced a  tag, with only the number "9" stamped on it, and using
the pliers, she clamped  it onto the ring in the collar. Grabbing the ring,
she gave a tug, indicated  that she wanted me to bend over. Without pause,
she pulled the butt plug out and  ripped the duct tape off my pussy. Then she
removed the glass dido, and giving  another sharp yank of the leash, she
made it clear that it was time for me to  follow her, and she passed me through
the door.
The meal room was brightly  lit, and an older woman was standing there
waiting for me. In silence, she  clipped a dog leash to the ring, and led me out
of the meal room, and down a  hallway I had not known existed. The soles of
her shoes were a soft rubber and  made no sound as I padded behind her,
barefoot. About halfway down the hall, she  stopped and taking a key from her
pocket, she unlocked a door and opened it,  trailing me along.  The room was
stark, with just a gynecologist style  examination chair and strong lights
on stands. Motioning me to the chair, she  unclipped my leash and waited
while I got into the seat and placed my feet in  the widely spaced stirrups. The
chrome plated stirrups were cold against the  calved of my legs and the
harsh light was pointed right at my obscenely spread  sex. The young girl set
about strapping me into the chair, beginning at my  ankles , then up to my
knees and thighs, wrists, arms, and waist. She placed a  heavily padded
blindfold over my eyes and then I felt her rub some sort of cream  or lotion
around the folds of my pussy and my anus.
It seemed an eternity  before I heard the door reopen. If I had to guess, I
would say that two or three  people had come in. I could hear the sounds of
things being moved around closer  to me, but no one spoke. Then, suddenly,
I felt a hand rest on my thigh as a  slight burning sensation started in the
area around my anus. The distinct odor  of burning hair was evident, and it
was then that I realized I was being  subjected to laser hair removal.
Permanent hairless skin , like a small child.
The procedure went on for a considerable time, working from my asshole to
my  recently shaven pussy lips, and up over my mound. It didn't hurt too ba
dly, but  over time the pain grew in intensity. When they were through,
someone gently  rubbed a cream onto the area. Then I could hear them walk out of
the room and  close the door. I remained as I was, strapped into the
stirrups, gagged and  blindfolded.
It wasn't too long before I heard the door open once again, and  soft feet
padded to me. A soft warm hand slid over my smooth hairless crotch,  and
then I felt the straps being unbuckled. The leash was reattached to my  collar,
and a pull on it got me out of the chair. With the blindfold on, I  couldn'
t tell where I was going, but when we stopped walking, I could feel the
heat from lights that were pointed at my body. A poke of the electric cattle
prod got my legs apart in a hurry, and I felt three or four hands gliding
over  me, inspecting the results of the laser.
A man's voice broke the silence,  "Rub some more cream on number nine
before returning her to her crate for the  night. A few more treatments and she'
ll be fine. These dark haired pale skinned  ones always turn out best." My
leash was jerked, suddenly, causing me to trip  slightly, as I followed
someone back to the room that held the crates. The  blindfold was removed, and
the young girl applied some lotion as instructed,  before using the prod to
guide me back into my crate. This was the first time I  was ever in the crate
without a gag, dildo and butt plug in place. The girl bent  over and looked
me in the eye and said, "Speak one word, utter any sounds, and  you'll be
more sorry than you can ever imagine!" She closed the pen, locked it,  and
went to pull another slave from a crate.
I lay curled up, quite aware of  the tingling sensations around my anus.
Gingerly, I touched the delicate  outer lips of my pussy, and found them
swollen and very sensitive to touch.  Closing my eyes, I fell into a fairly deep
sleep.  Only to wake up at the  sound of the lock being opened by the young
girl.  I had three more  sessions under the laser, until all the hair was
gone, not even any fine downy  hair remained. After a meal session, the older
woman, Catherine, took my leash  and took me into a room I had never seen
before. It was all set up like a  photographer's studio, with a large camera
on a tripod, lots of lights and many  props. She took off the leash, but
only long enough to attach a short chain to  my collar and clip it to a post.
"This is "9". I want a full work up on this  one. Get the proofs to me by
noon tomorrow, I'm putting a lot of her in the  catalogue." "Certainly,
Miss Catherine," a deep male voice answered.  The  length of my chain gave me
little room to turn and see who had spoken. I was  able to hear Catherine
walk out of the room, and hear the door open and close,  but then, nothing.
Complete silence. I stood as still as I could and just  waited. Seemingly out
of nowhere, there was motion to my left, and some lights  were turned in my
direction. Bright blinding lights were shone directly into my  face, causing
me to flinch and squeeze my eyes shut. The light was so intense, I  could
feel the heat from the bulbs against my skin. Through the bright light, I
could see a man scrutinizing me. He was olive skinned, with dark brown oiled
hair that was pulled back in a tight ponytail. He wore a black leather vest,
unbuttoned, which showed his bare hairy chest, faded blue jeans which were
skin  tight and highlighted his well defined and proportioned ass and legs.
"I  want some information, "9", so I am going to grant you permission to
speak.  However, you are only to answer my questions, and they are to be
answered as directly and succinctly as possible.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-six."
"Height?"
"Five foot five"
"Weight?"
"One  hundred and fifteen."
"Measurements?"
"34C, 22, 35."
"Eye color?"
"Blue."
"Education?"
"Bachelor of Fine Arts"
"Piercings,  tattoos, brands, or other markings?"
"None."
"Last period?"
"About  two weeks ago."
"That's fine, I have all I need. No more talking from here  on." A few
minuted passed as he got a couple of cameras prepped for the shoot.  He had two
on tripods that were at aimed at me at about shoulder height, two  others
were on low tripods, maybe three feet from the floor, and one camera hung
around his neck. Wordlessly he began shooting, the only sounds being the click
 of the shutter and the ratcheting sound of the film advance lever.  "Leave
 your body as it is, but turn your head down.........(click....click,
click)
"Good, now eyes closed..........(click), open...........(click, click),  "
Grab the post......(click), okay fine, that's good." He stopped shooting
long  enough to unclip the chain from my collar.
"Hands behind your  head............(click, click, click ), legs
spread.....(click),wider........ (click......click, click), now cross your
arms
behind your back......, chest out.......(click......click), turn around
and face
the door ............(click, .....click), bend  over...............(click,
click), .....spread your  cheeks..........(click........click, click,
click),.hands on the  floor........(click, click), .......look back at me
through
your  legs........(click..........click).........mouth
open......(click)..........  lie down on your
back............(click..........click)......now, mouth
open.........(click.......click........click, click)...........eyes
closed.........(click)...........spread your
legs.......(click.........click).........wider......(click............click)
..........use
your fingers and pull your pussy open..............(click...click, click,
click).............okay, fine, now up on your knees and kneel.........
...(click,  click.........click)................legs
apart......(click).......hands at your  sides.........(click.....click), ...........mouth
open.........(click..........click),
.......closed..........(click.........click.........click)...............close  your
eyes.............(click......click)............and now suck your  finger".................(click...click,
click..........click). The rapid fire  staccato of the shutter punctuated his orders as
he moved fluidly from tripod  mounted camera to hand held and back again.
Stopping only once to reload one of  the cameras.
When he seemed satisfied with his shots, he set down his camera  and took
off his leather vest. Approaching me, he unclipped my chain from the  pole. "
Remain as your are," was his admonishment.
Leaving me, he went to a  control on the wall which he turned on. I heard a
whirring of an electric motor.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a
spreader bar being lowered from the  ceiling, leather cuffs attached to the
ends.  When it was within his easy  reach, he said, "Come over here." I
followed his direction, and he took my right  wrist first, and strapped it
tightly in the cuff. Before doing my left wrist, he  checked to make sure that
it was buckled properly, then he attached my left  wrist and went back to the
wall switch and started lifting the me off my feet by  the bar. He shut the
motor off when I was dancing on the tips of my toes. I felt  the pressure
building in my shoulder sockets as I hung in waiting.
Walking  before me, he held a bark brown single tail before me, allowing it'
s sinister  capabilities to flood my brain. When he was happy with the
terror it brought to  my countenance, he took a step back and uncoiled it to the
floor.  Waiting,  ever so patiently, for my body to start to shake ever so
slightly.  I heard  the terrible swish just before my left thigh exploded in
white hot searing pain.  I screamed and tore at my bounds, as another blow
wrapped around my waist. Tears  cascaded down my cheeks as his relentless
whipping continued, with no break or  pause. I have endured the whip many
times, but the person wielding it always  took time out to pause and savor his
handiwork. It wasn't until later that  night, in my crate that I realized
that he was just marking me for the photos.  It had nothing to do with any
pleasure he might derive from it, or pain I would  receive. It was just so that
I would be appropriately marked for the pictures he  was taking.
Sweating profusely, he put down the whip, and picked up his  camera. He
took close ups of my back, chest and thighs, as well as just torso  shots and
full length body pictures as I hung limply from my wrists. The  circulation
in my hands had been cut off, and I could no longer feel them. He  was all
but done with those shots by the time I had regained some composure and  was
breathing more normally.
He paused from the shooting long enough to  lower the winch that help be
aloft.  Then, taking my arm, he made me kneel  on the cold concrete floor. He
left me long enough to aim the two tripod mounted  cameras that were closer
to the ground, checking their placement so that they  were aimed directly at
my face from the left and right side.
Then he undid  his pants and stepped out of them, revealing a thin but long
flaccid penis  hiding in a thick bush of dark curly pubic hair. His balls
were completely  hidden by the tangle of hair. Grabbing the remote control
for the two cameras,  he began afresh. "Eyes
open.........(click.....click).........stare at  it.........(click)..............lick the tip
slowly.......(click.....click,  click, click). The salty taste of pre cum greeted me as my
tongue slid over the  rapidly hardening purplish head. I didn't hear the all
too familiar sound of the  shutter, but I kept on licking the head, and
watching the shaft grow in length  and girth.
"No hands now, slowly suck it into your
mouth.....(click.....click.....click)...........use your tongue  more....(click.........click).......eyes
open, look into my  face.....(click)........let the spittle drool out of your
mouth.......(click......click, click).
He pulled away from me, leaving my  mouth open and his now very long and
hard penis right in front of my eyes. The  camera clicked off several of this
pose.  "On your hands and knees, facing  the door."
I moved as ordered, while he re-positioned the tow cameras, one  facing me
and the other facing from my right side.. "Look into the
camera......(click....click)......lick your lips and smile......(click). Then he  moved behind
me and slowly introduced himself into my pussy, inch after inch  until I
felt it pushing against my cervix. The shutters on both cameras clicked
incessantly, recording my expressions and the burial of his stout cock. The
pressure inside me was something I had never felt before, he seemed to keep
pushing deeper than my physical limitations. Then, ever so slowly, he began to
withdraw himself, until only the tip was remaining. Pausing a few seconds,
he  slid back in, repeating the process many times, all the while recoder
ring it on  film.
Finally, he withdrew completely, and said, "Remain as you are." I  stayed
on all fours as he reloaded both cameras and repositioned them ever so
slightly. Then he got behind me on his knees and I felt the familiar sensation
of a cock poised at the entrance to my always snug sphincter. Bending over,
he  dribbled some spittle on my hole, while clicking the shutter remotes.
The  pressure began to build and I worked hard to relax the puckered entrance
to my  anal cunt. With a squishy pop, his cock invaded the passage, and
began it's  relentless probing, until I felt his dense pubic hair tickling my
ass  cheeks.  The shutters kept clicking, as he held his position buried
deeply  in my inner most recesses. I could feel the juices seeping from my
jealous and  horny pussy.  It amazed me how he took me so slowly, never ramming
deep  into me, until I came to the realization that his only interest was the
shooting  of the pictures, not his own pleasures.
The shutters stopped clicking and he  pulled out with a noisy fart of air. "
Kneel and clean me," he commanded.
I  got back on my knees and watched as he repositioned the cameras. Then he
stood  before me waiting for me to clean my anal juices from his still
raging hard  cock. I licked and sucked listening to the shutters click
repeatedly, until,  with a loud moan he began to cum. He pulled out of my mouth,
showering my face  with his hot sticky cum, in my open eyes and mouth. The
shutters never  stopping.  At long last, he said, "take your finger and slowly
wipe my cum  into your mouth.
Then you are to swallow it."
He picked up his hand held  camera and took a series of close-ups of me
pushing the cum into my mouth from  my eyes and face and swallowing it.
Setting down the camera he announced,  "That should do it. Miss Catherine will be
happy with these. You may remain as  you are, I'll ring for Ginny and she
will escort you from here."
There was a  wall mounted intercom that I hadn't noticed before, and he
used it to summon  Ginny to the studio. She arrived a few minutes later,
re-clipping the leash to  my collar, and tugging it to get me to my feet, I
followed her out the door and  into the feeding room. The calisthenics period
followed, and once again I was  trussed up, my dildo and butt plug were inserted
and I was placed back into my  crate.
For the first time since my arrival, I slept like a baby, never  waking
once during my sleep. What brought me out of my deep sleep was a hard jab  from
Ginny's cattle prod. I awoke to find the other slaves standing in a line,
front to back, chains connecting them together with thick iron bands on
their  left ankles, and matching bands around their necks. Ginny unlocked my
crate and  stood back as I crawled out. Ginny then proceeded to unbind my arms,
remove the  butt plug and dildo, and take off my gag. Then she knelt and
locked a heavy iron  band on both of my ankles, and then using a keyed lock,
attached the left band  to the end of the chain that bound the others. She
fitted a similar band around  my neck, which chafed me under the chin due to
the wideness of it, and she  locked the connecting chain to it as well.
Standing back, she inspected her  charges. "This morning begins your final
hours here. You will all be fed, then  properly bathed and made up before
being placed in the viewing area. The guests  have begun arriving and will
have several hours to carefully inspect each of you  and read through your
individual portfolios.  When they retire to the  dining room for dinner, you
will all wait in the holding room. Then, one by one,  in numerical order, you
will be brought into the auction room and will be placed  on the block so
that the bidding can begin.  "Some of you will remain here  a few more days in
order that we may prepare you for shipment to wherever your  owner wants.
Others will leave tonight or in the morning with your owners,  beginning your
new lives as slaves.  "Remember, that even though you will  be eating
together, your are not to speak, under any circumstances among each  other. You
are, however, expected to speak if a guest asks you a question.  Answer
clearly and briefly and with all candor anything that they may ask.
"Any other information you might need will be given to you while you are
being bathed and prepared for the day ahead.
"A word of advice, try and walk  in step, otherwise you can easily trip.
Now, let's go!"
I felt the slack in  the chain on my ankle disappear as the group stepped
off, left leg first. We  seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly. Our
movement created an eerie  sound, as the padding of our bare feet on the floor
was punctuated by the  dragging of the steel chain. The steps were short and
choppy, as if we had been  hobbled. Ginny led us down a hallway and past
the room where I had always eaten  my meals. A few doors down, we went through
an opened door into a rather large  but dimly lit room that I had never
seen before. A long table ran along one  wall, with a series of old wooden
benches.  Ginny directed the first slave  around so that we followed him in
succession between the table and the benches.  When we were all at the table,
she simply said, "Sit!"
The meal was brought  out to us and it was lovely: soup, fresh garden
salad, hot sweet breads, stuffed  chicken breast, rice pilaf, green beans and
pitchers of iced tea. Dessert  followed the meal, and consisted of apple pie
and a rich dark coffee.
When  the meal was done and all were sated, we were led out of the room and
up a long  stone staircase and out of the house. It was the first time I
had been out in  the daylight since my arrival, how long ago? A number of cars
were parked on the  lawn to the side of the house, and a young man dressed
simply in a white shirt,  black slacks and a black four in hand tie stood by
as a parking valet.   Ginny led us down a bricked path that ran lazily
along the long curving  driveway. A silver Porsche Carrera came up the drive,
slowing as it approached  us, and then stopping completely. The window went
down as we marched past, but I  dared not turn my head to look at the
occupants, so I didn't get to see  them.  After we passed the car, I heard the
crunch of the bluestone as it  slowly resumed it's trek up to the house.
The bricked path took us to a  large barn that was over a slight rise and
not visible from the main house. A  group of ten well groomed young men and
women awaited our arrival outside the  barn. We stopped and were turned to
face the group at the front of the barn.
"These are your preparers. They will get each of you ready for the auction
and will stay with you until that time," Ginny said.  It was at that point
that they came over to us, seemingly aware as to which one of us they had
been  assigned to. A young freckle faced red headed girl came over by me and
looked me  over from head to toe, first from the front, and then from the
rear. Then,  reaching in her pocket, she produced a key, which she then used
to unlock the  chains from my ankle and neck, but leaving the iron bands on
me.  She  fastened a short chain leash to my collar and led me into the barn
and to a  stall. Once there, she took a short thin chain from a peg on the
wall and  clipped it to my collar, and then to a hook in a beam over our
heads.  The  stall was immaculate. Dark wide planked flooring with brass
fittings and  hardware on the hinges, handles and rings. Bright florescent lights
overhead  illuminated every square foot, leaving no shadowy areas.  "I will
be  responsible for preparing you for your sale at the auction. My name is
Madison,  and Ginny is my older sister. Miss Catherine is our aunt. I'm
sixteen, and you  are the first slave I have been given to prepare. I have been an
assistant  handler for the past two summers, but Aunt Catherine feels I am
now ready to  prepare a slave for sale on my own, although I know she will
probably come in a  few times to check up on how I'm doing.  "Remember, "9"
, you are not  allowed to talk, to me, or to any of us. Only to the guests
if they ask you  questions. I have a list of things I have to do to get you
ready to be sold, so  we'd better get started.  "I see you've had all your
nether hair removed,  so I can check off pubic grooming from my list."
Madison used a pencil to  put a check mark on a sheet of paper she had on a
clipboard.
"We'll start  with internals," she said, unclipping the chain from my
collar and reattaching  the leash. She led me to a galvanized bucket in the
middle of the barn. One of  the male slaves, a tall lanky black, was urinating
in the bucket.  His cock  was at least ten inches long and it wasn't even
hard! The stream shooting from  it was a dark yellow and strong. An acrid smell
filled the air "We'll be done in  a minute, Madison," The he-slave's
preparer said to her.  "Thanks, Mark.  Are you in a hurry?"
"No, we've got plenty of time. This one won't take long  to prep."
"Good. Then maybe you'd wait and let this one have an audience  when she
goes.
She'll need to get used to it at sometime anyway."
"Sure.  No problem."
The black slave's stream of urine had finally slowed and then  stopped.
Madison pulled by leash and positioned me over the bucket. "Empty  yourself!"
I squatted over the bucket and closed my eyes to block out the three  pairs
of eyes watching me.
"Open those eyes and stare at his dick, 9!"
Mark had moved the tall slave so that his huge cock hung right before my
face, a drop of urine hanging from the hole. Concentrating, I squeezed and e
weak stream began to spill into the pale. It seemed to take forever before
it  stopped. I started to get up, but Lisa's hand was on my shoulder pushing
back  into my squatted position.
"Bowels too."
This has always been the  hardest thing for me. The whip is easier to
endure.  Poised over a bucket,  naked, trying to force a bowel movement while
under the watchful eyes of three  strangers is next to impossible. I pushed,
hard, and could feel the pressure  building. Exhaling and taking a deep
breath, I pushed again, and felt the  pressure ease, as I heard the sound of the
turd landing in the piss filled  bucket.
"She's blushing," Mark quipped. "A modest slave." "She'll get used  to
it, "Madison rebuked him defensively. "She'll have to. "Madison pulled me
upright with the leash, and took me to a bench. She laid me over the bench,
so  that my face was on the floor, and my ass cheeks were the highest part
of my  body.
A moment later, I left the enema hose probing at my tight rear hole,  and
Madison pushed it deep up the portal. A warm sensation soon followed, as the
pressure in my bowels grew. I could feel my stomach bulging as the cramps
began  top build.  "Hold it in. I'll tell you when you may expel, "Madison
ordered.  I was squirming, and sweat was forming on my forehead and upper
lip as Madison pulled the hose out. "Just a minute longer." A soft moan was
my  answer. The pain was becoming intense, when finally I took hold of my
leash and  led me back to the bucket. There were three slaves and their
handlers at the  bucket when we got there, my small baby steps making the trip
seem endless. The  fact that all these people were going to see me expel the
contents of my bowels  never entered my mind. All that I could think of was
relieving the pressure and  pain.  I squatted over the bucket and immediately,
it all exploded from me,  splattering the insides of my thighs and the
backs of my calves. I kept pushing  long after I was emptied, in an attempt to
relieve the awful cramps, but it  didn't help. "One more time should clean
you out," Madison declared, snapping my  leash to get me up.
She repeated the process, giving me a second enema,  which felt like twice
as much liquid as the first was. She also made me hold it  for a longer
time. And to add to my misery, she waited until there were three  slaves and
their handlers standing around the bucket when I was allowed to empty  myself.
At that point, I didn't care at all!
Madison brought me to a tiled  shower stall, and striping off her own
clothes, she got in the shower with me.  She had a very skimpy bikini on
underneath her clothes that left very little to  the imagination. She washed me from
head to foot, and shampooed my hair twice.  Each time adding a luxuriantly
thick conditioner. Stepping from the shower, she  wrapped a towel around
herself, and put my hair up in a thick towel. Then she  brought me to a large
Jacuzzi, the largest I had ever seen, and said, "Sit here  for a while until
I get back." Two other female slaves were soaking in the warm  swirling
waters, their hair also wrapped in towels that matched mine. None of us  spoke,
but our eyes seemed to be straining to communicate. The slave to my right
had a look of panic on her face, her eyes darting from me to the other slave.
 She looked to be about my age, with deep azure eyes and full rich lips. I
smiled  knowingly at her, but it didn't seem to calm her. The other slave
seemed very  self assured. She appeared to be older, early forties maybe, with
a dark  complexion. The tops of her breasts, which showed above the soapy
water were  covered in intricate tribal tattoos. She never gave either of us
more than one  cursory glance as we lay in the warm waters.
Preparers came for the other  two before Madison came back for me. She had
changed into a brightly colored  sarong, but she was topless now. Her small
pert breasts standing up proud and  firm, with small gold rings dangling
from her pebble sized dark nipples. She  tilted my head back and removed the
towel from my hair, letting it drop outside  the rim of the tub. With a soft
brush, she began combing out my long hair. The  gentle rhythm of her strokes
was soothing, and when combined with the strong  jets of the Jacuzzi, caused
me to feel drowsy.  "You may nap if you wish,  `9'. It will be your last
for a while." I let myself succumb to the sleepiness  that had taken hold of
me, and woke up when I felt the familiar tug on my leash.  Rousing myself, I
stood as Madison patted me dry. She guided me to a make-up  mirror, gently
patted bath powder over my body, and then applied deodorant under  my arms.
An application of a light musky smelling perfume was next, followed by  a
manicure and pedicure. Before she applied the nail polish, she perfumed me a
second time, this time making sure she took care of the small of my back,
between my breasts and behind my knees.  While she waited for the first  coat
of polish on my fingers and toes to dry, she did my eye make up and lip
gloss. A second coat of polish was applied when the first had dried. "I've
only  got one thing left on my list for you, `9', and I'm not experienced
enough for  that. You'll wait here, and I'll be back in a minute."
I wasn't about to  point out that I was in no position to go anywhere, what
with my leash clipped  to the make up table, so I just nodded in assent.  "
Strap her on the  table," a woman's voice behind me said. "It'll take a
couple of minutes and then  you'll be done with your prep list. You can watch
me do the first one, then I'll  let you try the second if you feel like it."
 I checked my curiosity and didn't  turn to see who was talking, but a
moment later, Madison unclipped my leash from  the table and pulled me over to
an ob/gyn table. Without instruction, I got up  on the table and put my feet
in the cold steel stirrups. Madison used several  leather straps to fasten
my feet securely in the stirrups. She also ran some  long straps around my
waist and chest making any movement on my part impossible.
"That should hold her, Madison," the same woman's voice declared. "Help
me  prep her."
A tall elderly woman was standing between my widely spread legs.  She had
to be at least sixty-five, with long gray hair tied in a tight bun at  the
back of her head. She was dressed in a maroon spaghetti strap tank top that
was skin tight, and revealed her bra-less breasts. A short black wrap around
skirt highlighted her flat stomach.
A cold wet sensation in my pussy made me  inadvertently look down to see
Madison squatted at the foot of the table, wiping  my labia with alcohol.
Instantly, she met my gaze and said, "I didn't give you  permission to move, `9'
. Sit back!" I let my head sink back to the table,  wondering what was
going to happen. "Use a lot of betadyne, Madison," the woman  instructed. "We
need to minimize the risk of infection because she won't be with  us after she
's sold tonight. Just try to keep it off her thighs as much as  possible."
"Okay, Francis," Madison replied. I felt the wiping stop for a  moment,
and then begin anew.
When she was through sterilizing me, Francis  said to her, " I know you've
pierced before, but this one is different. Your  aunt wants her pierced
with 00 gauge, both left and right. She'll fetch a much  higher price that way."
 "I thought you couldn't pierce bigger than 20 gauge the  first time,"
Madison queried.
"Normally that would be the case, but I have  something new, in fact, I
only got it a week ago and have been dying to try it  out! Take a look."
Francis handed something to Madison, but I wasn't about to  look over at it.
"What is it, Francis,' Madison inquired?
"It's a  special type of piercing needle. Let me show you." Madison handed
the needle  back to Francis, who continued, "It has a taper to it, see?"
"Yes."
"It  starts at a twenty gauge, but then, right after that, there is a
scalpel in it.  Right here."
"I see it," Madison exclaimed excitedly.
"What you do is,  first you do a normal piercing with a twenty gauge
needle.
Then, as you back  that needle out, you push the tapered needle in behind
it. .  Then you turn  it as you push, so it cuts it's way through the flesh
as deep as you want. This  one can get to a triple 0 if you want.  "Is there
a lot of blood?"
"From what I've read, it's only a bit more than with a standard piercing.
More swelling afterwards, but that's to be expected. It takes longer to
heal,  and is more painful as well. One has to be more diligent with the
aftercare too.  But her new owners will get a sheet of instructions on how it
should be cared  for.  "Ready to try it?"
"Oh yes," Madison responded enthusiastically.
"Take the forceps, Mad and get a good grip on her outer labia." I felt her
 fingers pulling on my lower lip and then the cold steel pinching slightly.

"Get in there a bit deeper. I want this hole to be very deep so it will
withstand a lot of weight once it heals."
"Okay," Madison replied, pulling  the lip further out with her fingers,
then getting the clamp in deep.
"That  looks good, now clamp it tight and pull," Francis said.  I felt a
strong  pulling sensation as I heard the clamp click shut. The next thing I
felt was the  tip of the needle against that most delicate skin. I yelped as
she thrust it  through my lower lip, but the pain quickly ebbed. I felt a
tugging sensation as  she got the tapered needle ready to go into the hole as
the starter needle was  pushed out. I felt pressure in the newly cut hole,
but it was quickly replaced  by a burning sensation as she began twisting the
tapered scalpel and pushing it  into the hole, carving it wider as she
went.  "See how clean it makes the  hole," Francis asked, without bothering to
turn towards Madison?
"It just  keeps enlarging the hole to whatever size you want, and keeps it
round, while  not tearing the hole."
I was groaning as she kept up the pressure. It could  feel the blade
turning as she kept making the hole larger. Finally, she stopped.  "Hand me that
link, Madison, I want to check to see if the hole is large  enough." Madison
picked up a thick chain link and held it before my eyes, making  sure I
understood it's girth, then she passed it off to Francis. "A little  bigger I
think, then I'll slip it in and lock it in place." I was squirming as  much
as the straps would allow, as she continued to bore into my labia.
"That should do it, now watch, Madison as I insert the link. It's really
quite easy. You pull back here, so it opens up. Then you get the link into
the  hole as you push the needle back out. Just.....like.......that. Then,
you lock  it in place like this." I heard a metallic click "And that's it.
What do you  think?" "It looks great, Francis. So thick. Not too much blood
either." "Told  you. Now, lock on these three links and the medallion, then I
'll let you do her  other lip" Madison followed the directive and then
said, "Okay, I'm ready."  "Alright. Take hold of the forceps and pull the
labia way out so you can get  close to the base. Make sure it's even with the
hole on the other side.   "That's it. Pull it out more. Here, let me hold it
with my fingers, then you can  get a better grip on it with the clamp."
Francis got it where she wanted it  as Madison clamped the forceps tightly
in place. "Now, take the needle and push  it right through that spot there."
 I let out a stiff groan as the needle ran  through me, tears welled up in
my eyes. "Don't you dare mess up that mascara,  `9.' I'm not in the mood
to redo your makeup!"
Francis dabbed gently at the  tears in the corners of my eyes as Madison
got the tapered scalpel lined up. She  pushed the needle out and began cutting
the hole larger, but she did it faster  than Francis did, so the burning
was much more intense. Francis handed her  another chain link and she locked
it in place. I could smell the alcohol just as  the sting ripped into me as
Francis poured a bottle of it on my lower lips.
They both undid the straps that had held me fast to the examination table,
and then they helped me to my feet. The weight from the chains in my labia
was  immediately apparent to me, as they were distended down, stretched taut
away  from my pussy. "Look how far they're pulled, Madison," Francis
announced with a  smile.
"I never thought they were so elastic," Madison responded. I bet  they'll
be able to hold a lot more weight without having to worry about them
ripping out." "Thank Me, `9', " Francis commanded.
"Thank You, ma'am," I  quickly answered.
"Let's go, `9', I have to get you set up for the viewing,"  Madison said,
leading me once again by the leash. We went through a door and  into a room
where all the other slaves were with their preparers. Each of the
preparers was bare chested, male and female. The men wore tight fitting breeches
while the women wore wrap around sarongs the same material as Madison's Each
slave was being fitted with leg irons and manacles on their wrists.
Madison  tied me to a ring in the wall and set about locking the irons on
my ankles. The  steel was cold and heavy. It looked very old was and was
covered in a rusty  patina. Once my legs were effectively hobbled, she locked a
set of manacles on  my wrists and chain around my waist. She locked my
wrists to the waist chain.
When all of us were in chains, the preparers walked us out of the barn and
back up the brick path to the main house. By the angle of the sunlight
falling  through the stately oaks I could see that it was late afternoon. The
only sound  we made was the scrapping of the chains on our feet as they
dragged with each  short step on the bricks.
We were taken in a side entrance and into a  beautiful wood paneled room
that looked like a library. It had a very high  ceiling with royal blue drapes
on the windows, which were open to let in the  sunlight. The floor was a
dark stained hard wood with inset patterns. Across the  room ran a steel pipe,
about six feet from the floor, suspended from the ceiling  by more pipe.
There were rings welded to the pipe at three foot intervals with a  short
chain dangling from each ring.  One at a time, in our numerical  order, we were
chained to the pipe at our collars. It was then that I noticed  Catherine
sitting in a wing back chair observing the proceedings.
When we  had all been chained to the pipe, Catherine stood and announced, "
If I may have  your attention, please........Thank you.  "Preparers, you
have done an  excellent job. This should be a very lucrative auction for the
house. Your  slaves will be here for two hours for the formal viewing. When
that is over you  will be instructed as to when they are to be escorted in for
the bidding. You  may all get something to eat if you wish, but you may not
stay in here when the  guests are viewing the slaves. Thank you all." As
the preparers started to  leave, Madison leaned in towards me and whispered, "
Be good!"
The door  closed and we were left alone with Catherine, chained by our
necks, in manacles  and leg irons. Catherine inspected each one of us in turn,
scrutinizing every  little detail, in complete silence. She spent a few
minutes fondling the thick  steel rings in my labia, lifting them to judge the
weight, and letting them drop  unceremoniously, making me jump. Never saying a
word. Finally, she sat back in  her chair and spoke: " In a few minutes my
guests will be allowed in to inspect  you all. They may touch you, feel you,
probe you, or simply ignore you.   They have two hours to read your bios
and check the merchandise carefully,  because I do not give refunds.
"You are all to stand with your heads bowed  down, and your eyes open. You
are not to speak, unless spoken to, and must never  look anyone of them in
the face, unless directly ordered to do so. When the  viewing is complete,
you will be led, one at a time in numerical order, into the  bidding room,
where you will be bid upon, and ultimately sold. If any of you are  not sold,
you will remain her with us, at my house, as a servant, until the next
auction, which is one year from now.
"I will not be speaking with any of you  again, unless you aren't sold, so
good bye, and good luck to you all" Catherine  turned and closed the door
behind her.  All was quiet in the room,  excepting for one slave who was
weeping softly.  We stood there together,  heads down, not looking at anything
except the floor, until the door opened a we  heard the sound of shoes on the
hard wood floor. I saw a pair of wing tipped  cordovans pause in front of
me for a few minutes. The pants were a gray tweed,  neatly creased with a
cuff. The shoes were highly polished and completely devoid  of scuff marks.
They were joined by a pair of black pumps, maybe a size  six, bare legs, very
shapely. "Have you seen the rings, Charles, she asked him?"  "Yes, dear, I
was just admiring them. Catherine likes to put them in in advance,  jacks
the price up" "She's not too bad," the woman continued. A little small
boned, but she might fit in with the others."
"Put a mark next to her in  your catalogue, dear. We might bid on her if
she doesn't go too high."
Together they moved off to my right, and I was left alone for a short time.
 Then a pair of thigh high black leather boots with three inch platform
soles and  six inch heels stopped in front of me, and slightly behind, a
delicate pair of  bare female feet. "What number is this one, slut," the boots
asked?  "It's  number nine, Mistress."
"Give me her bio."
"Yes, Mistress."
While  she was reading it, a pair of black loafers stopped next to her, "
See anything  you like, Ilsa?"
"A few prospects, Daimon, but I haven't made up my mind as  yet. You?" "I'
m not really in the market this year. I just came to see what  Catherine
put together. This one is lovely, though, don't you think?" "Yes she  is."
Then to the barefoot woman, "Lift her head, slut, I want to look into her
eyes."
"Yes, Mistress," the barefoot woman replied as she reached out and  placed
her fingers under my chin, lifting my head up. "Open your eyes, `9'." I
opened my eyes to look into the face of a woman dressed in a black leather
corset, that accented her heavy chest. A totally naked woman stood next to
her,  her head shaven, with a thick metal rod piercing both of her breasts, `U
' shaped  clamps straddling each breast from the bar. "She has nice eyes,
Mistress. The  kind You like," the naked woman said.
"Her eyes are lovely slut, they remind  me of whore's eyes............ We'
ll see." The woman in the corset ran her  gloved hand lightly over my right
breast while she starred into my eyes. When  she was certain she had one
hundred percent of my attention, she pinched my  nipple, very hard. I bit my
lip, holding in the sound that wanted reflexively to  escape. Her gaze burned
right through me, watching for a reaction to her  ministrations.
"Make her cum for Me, slut. I want to hear her." "Of course,  Mistress."
The naked girl knelt before me and, using her hands, pushed my thighs
apart. She the buried her face in my pussy, her tongue darting deep within me so
quickly I let out a startled little yelp. She found my clit and began
sucking it  into her mouth and nibbling it gently between her teeth. In a matter
of seconds  I could feel the orgasm building deep inside me. She never
slackened her pace  and I came with a loud moan, twitching so hard the chain to
my neck was making  noise.
"Well done, slut. Under sixty seconds. You've gotten very good at  it."
"Thank You, Mistress. It's because of Your training me."
"Come with  Me, slut, I wish to browse before making up My mind." "Yes,
mistress," came the  fast reply, and they moved away, leaving still
recuperating from an intense  orgasm, a strong smell lingering below my waist.  I
bowed my head down  again, and many minutes passed before another guest came by
to look me over. It  was a black woman, wearing a tight purple skirt, mid
calf length. She wore  violet colored leather sandals with thin straps holding
them on her dainty feet.  I could see her well manicured hands reach out to
caress my belly. Ever so  slowly, she worked her hand up and cupped my
breast, while her other hand  examined the newly placed rings and chains in my
pussy lips.  She tilted  her head in toward me and inhaled deeply, savoring
the smell of my perfume. "You  have cum recently, haven't you," she quizzed
me?  "Yes Ma'am. A few minutes  ago."
"You're still quite wet, even sloppy."
I was shaken a bit and  didn't know whether to apologize or simply agree
with her. Sensing my unease at  the moment, she added, "It's quite all right.
Even slaves can't be expected to  control nature's instincts.  "Do you
have a name, child?"
"My number is  `9', Ma'am."
"Yes, dear, I know that. Look at me."
I lifted my head and  looked into her face. She was in her late forties,
not necessarily beautiful,  but striking, with a flawless chocolate brown
complexion.  Light pink  lipstick outlined her mouth. Bright piercing eyes
seemed to be boring into the  inner recesses of my mind, probing my most secret
thoughts. She wore no other  make up and no jewelry. Her short hair had light
strands of gray highlighting  it, and given her a strong commanding
presence. She wore a brightly colored silk  headband tied across her forehead. "I
want your given name." "It's Sheila,  Ma'am. Sheila Quinlan ."
"Ah, you're Irish."
"Yes, ma'am. Both sides. My  mother was a Kildare." "I have some Irish
blood as well," she offered. "I am  descended from slaves brought here in the
late 1820's. The owner was Irish and  fathered quite a number of children.
My grandmother told me all about it. It was  her grandmother who was a
slave.
"Looks like the times have changed quite a  bit. Now we have wealthy black
women walking about freely at a slave auction  that is selling white slaves.
And why is this? My ancestors had no choice in  what they became. They were
abducted, kidnapped from their homes and villages,  sold into slavery and
transported over thousands of miles of ocean to a strange  land, where they
were auctioned off to the highest bidder into a life of  servitude.
"Why then are you here, Sheila? Did your Master tire of you? Were  you lost
in some wager? Or perhaps to pay a debt?"
"In all candor, Ma'am, I  can't put it too well in words. I came here
alone. No one forced me. It's  something I have felt, a need, a deep unfulfilled
part of me. I don't now why,  or even from where it comes, but I just know
that the only way I can be complete  is if I am enslaved to someone for the
rest of my life. I need it to make me  whole. I.......I'm sorry. I just can'
t explain it." "My grandmother said that  when her grandmother had been
set free, she didn't know what to do. How to start  up her life. She told me
the woman stayed with her owner even after she was  free, stayed with him
till his death, and the remained with his daughter. It was  like she didn't
want to be free." A long silent pause hung between us that made  me feel
uneasy, so I bowed my head low, looking at her feet. She stared at me  and slowly
walked around me, inspecting me. Then, patting me once on the ass and  in
silence, she moved on.  Two more guests came by, a couple, discussing me
between themselves as they read my bio. Talking about me like they might a car
or some other major purchase, but never once speaking to me. Just about me.
He  seemed pretty turned on by my blatant submission, but she was cold,
criticizing  the size of my hips, my small areolas, and labial rings. Saying
they would  stretch my labia in no time, making them hideous, maybe even
necessitating their  removal. She told him she didn't think I'd be a good fit for
them, hinting a  male slave would be better.  Then came an announcement
from Catherine, "If  you would all care to join me in the auction room, the
bidding will commence in  ten minutes. You may visit the lavatories, freshen
your drinks, compare notes,  whatever you will." The couple agreed that I wasn'
t what they were looking for  as they moved away, following Catherine.
After the guests had left the room, our  preparers came back to us. Madison
unclipped my chain and lead me to a make-up  table where she had me sit. She
reapplied my lipstick, added a touch of rouge to  my areolas, and applied more
perfume. When she was through, she combed my hair  with a soft comb, until
it cascaded over my shoulders delicately.  "You are  to be auctioned off in
numerical order, `9', so we have some time," Madison  said, putting down the
comb. "If you are sold, you will be brought back down to  the crates for
shipping, unless your owners wish to take you with them right  away. If you
aren't bought, then you will remain here, with us, as a servant,  until the
auction next year, at which time you will be placed on the block If  you aren'
t sold at that time, my aunt will either keep you for herself, or sell  you
to a brothel overseas."
I shuddered visibly at that suggestion. To spend  my days as a prostitute,
slowly sinking into an abyss of pimps, disease, and  police was not
something I wanted to consider.
"That scares you I see,"  Madison observed. "That's understandable. Stay
here, I'm going to see what  number they're up to."
A few moments later she came back, saying, they're at  `3'. The first two
sold very fast, not a lot of bidding. Fair prices, but not  really high."
She picked up the rouge and handed it to me, "color my nipples so  I look
darker under the lights."
I took the rouge from her and gently patted  it on her small hard nipples,
darkening them. "Is my make-up alright," she  queried?  "Yes, Ma'am. It
looks just right for you."
I could see how  nervous she was, sitting waiting, biting the cuticle on
one of her fingers, her  smooth bare leg dangling from the chair. Finally, she
stood, and said, "Let's  get over by the door so we can be ready when they
call us." She took my leash  and we walked over to the door the lead into
the auction room.  I could  hear some people speaking, and then, suddenly,
the door opened, and Ginny came  in calling, "6."
A young man came forward, leading the slave I ran into in  the Jacuzzi, the
one with the full lips and azure eyes. A look of shear terror  filled her
eyes, and I smiled a faint smile at her in support.
In almost no  time, she was coming back in through the door, tears
streaming down her cheeks.  Her preparer said to Madison, "not one bid. No one was
interested." "This was  her second auction," Madison asked?
"Yes. And Catherine doesn't want her, so  you know what that means!"
Ginny opened the door with, "7."
Madison and  I stood aside as a lean male slave was lead through the door.
She said nothing  to me, but my stomach was churning in fear and trepidation
about the fate of  `6'. My mind was racing through all of what faced me,
doubts about the decisions  I had made, could I go through with this, could I
back out, run away........?
"8" Ginny announced, startling Madison and I.
""You're next, `9', all you  have to do is stand there. Don't look at
the floor, and don't look at the  buyers. Just look straight ahead. Stand up
straight, try and stick your chest  out, and keep your legs open." "I'll do
my best, Ma'am," I replied softly, my  mouth dry.
We waited in silence until the door opened again, and Ginny  called out, "9.
" Madison took up the slack on my leash and we went through the  door. The
room had a small brightly illuminated stage, but the seats where the  guests
were was dark, making it impossible to see them. We walked up the three
steps and Madison turned me into the blinding lights and we stopped.
Remembering  her admonishments, I faced dead ahead, eyes open, shoulders back, and
legs  slightly parted.
"A deep man's voice to my left announced, "Lot number 9. A  twenty-six
year old college educated female. 34 22 35. Pierced labia, both  sides. No
previous owners. We will start the bidding at 25. Do I have 25? Yes,  25. Do I
have 30?  ...30 it is, 35?.... 40? 40?.... 45,... 45,..... 50, 50,
.......50,......
75........ 75! Do I hear 80?...... 80?....... 85.  .......85,
....90........  100........100? ....125?..... ...125?  ........Any further
offers?................ Sold, 125."
We stood there on  stage for a minute or so, polite applause gracing the
sale. As it died away,  Madison pulled on my leash and we turned and walked
off the stage and through a  different door where we found Catherine accepting
a check from the black woman  in the tight purple skirt and violet sandals.
My head bowed at once, but was  slowly lifted at the pressure from her
hand, so she could gaze, knowingly into  my eyes, as Madison handed her my
leash.


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