• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • BDSM
  • /
  • #4's Auction

#4's Auction

Two house slaves led her into the chamber. She was dressed - more like decorated - with shining gold cuffs on wrists and ankles. Two moderately heavy and equally bright chains linked wrists and ankles. Her hair was perfectly coiffed high on her head to show she was collarless. Earning a collar was partly the point of the auction, after all. Her make up was flawless and glittering. Gold dust made her oiled skin shine. The slavers had spared no expense in making her highly marketable.

They had spared no expense anywhere. She had been training for weeks for this moment...and the new life that would follow. It had been hard training, rigorous training. It was the kind of training where failure and especially disobedience earned swift and often very harsh correction, where she learned that "No" and "I" were not words to be spoken.

She was unlike many in her class. She had not been kidnapped or coerced, she had not been sold. She wanted this. She had volunteered. From the first moment when the Headmistress began her welcome speech to the 14 shackled men and women, she had known she was in the right place., had made the right decision.

"Whatever you once were, whatever you did for a living, whoever you loved or called family...even your old name, that's gone now. Get used to it...fast! You are slaves to be used and abused for our pleasure and the pleasure of your eventual buyers."

Her juices had immediately started flowing at the thought! From her earliest memories she had dreamed of submission, of being forced, whether it was by pirates or invading armies or whatever her schoolgirl mind could conjure. In the privacy of her room she had tried to tie herself up, whipped herself with whatever was handy. It was never enough.

When she was 14 she gave herself to the first boy who asked. It had been disappointing. He had been kind and uncertain. She realized that she needed a real master, not a fumbling schoolboy. Later, after seeing a very strong looking and extremely well dressed woman, she realized that she might add 'real mistress' to that dream. It made her damp.

Soon she had found her way to story and video sites on the net and her imagination had taken off. Pretending to be older, she had connected with an online master for awhile. That had been wonderful, but still was not enough. Then, just before she turned 18 she found a dark web link to real slavers. On her birthday, she wrote them, begging to be taken.

Weeks of silence went by. Maybe they were ignoring her. Maybe they will be checking her out to make sure she was for real. She did have one encounter with a man in a bar who more or less raped her, if anything so willingly surrendered could be termed rape. Was he a slaver's agent testing her, she wondered?

Then one day, there was an e-mail, no name, just the logo of the slavers she had found- a stylized S fashioned from a braided whip. "your dream will be realized."

Days of silence and anticipation and furious bouts of masturbation followed, until another email arrived. She was directed to be at a certain corner in the city wearing only a red dress and heels and carrying nothing else. She had two hours. It was now or never!

Fuck! She didn't have a red dress! Gathering...well nothing except some cash and a credit card she jumped in a cab and rushed to the mall. It took three stores but she finally found a red one piece dress that clung to her curves. It was too small, but she had a feeling it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't be owning it long.

On time, she paced the corner bare-assed under her skirt and feeling like a hooker. It felt delicious, like the beginning of a new life, one of which she had dreamed for so long. She gave the rest of her cash to a homeless guy who eyed her lasciviously and tossed her card and the clothes she had worn to the mall in the garbage. The instructions had said dress, heels and nothing else. She figured she should start with obedience! A van had pulled up, the side door opened, the logo was shown to her. With a deep breath she climbed in and left all she had known until now behind.

That had been six weeks ago. She had learned that this was a long time for a training cycle among slavers. These folks were top drawer.

She had worked hard, learned her positions, practiced her sexual skills for hours on end, ate well, exercised hard, learned to take anything they wanted up any hole and smile and groan and actually enjoy the continuing violations. She had also learned orgasm control. She had only been granted three and only came without permission twice. The corrections had been harsh. She had experienced a dozen kinds of punishments including some intense torture session designed to test her limits. She was spared nothing.

More importantly, she embraced everything.

_______________________________________

They worked on her body, but the Headmistress also worked on her mind and spirit once she realized that this young candidate was a born submissive, that rare commodity, a natural slave. The Mistress was used to breaking the kidnapped ones, but this one - they had assigned her the number '4' as a temporary label - was the most natural slave she had ever encountered. She did not need to be told to beg for punishment when she screwed up, never hesitated to spread when ordered, go down on someone or lick an asshole. The Mistress was pretty sure the little cunt's cunt had been wet every minute of her servitude.

Some slaves didn't make the cut. They got sold off to brothels at wholesale prices. But this little gem held the promise of making the whole year profitable and earning her a healthy cash bonus. Another bonus had been those "private tutoring session" nights. This slave worked oh so very hard and willingly to make the Mistress happy.

Of course much of #4's training had been filmed and had been posted to the online catalogue for several days. Potential buyers could watch her swallow cock, lick pussy, ride a man or a woman, dance under the ministrations of whip and cane. The company even threw a cocktail party with some of the more frequent customers so potential buyers could see the candidates in various social settings, serving, being ordered to strip, being ordered to perform in a crowd. There were bondage vids showing both flexibility and endurance, even some golden shower tapes.

But nothing quite compared to the auction itself. It would be live. It took place in a simple soundproofed room, one that gave at the illusion of being larger than it was. Black curtains lined the walls with the S-whip logo prominently displayed in on all four walls. With technology today, serious buyers could watch in HD in the comfort of their own homes while considering their bids. No doubt a good many were being pleasured by their own slaves while they watched. Video cameras from several angles transmitted the images in full surround. VOIP devices allowed potential buyers to communicate suggestions and wishes directly to the Headmistresses' earwig. This was as much show as sale. Marketing was everything.

Seven slaves had gone before #4, five women and two men. It seems like they always had a harder time finding men who embraced their submission. Four men and two women had not made it through training and had been sold off wholesale. The rejects were spending their time strapped down being face and butt-fucked in some faraway hellhole. The ones who survived would be high earners. They always were because Headmistress was a wonderful trainer and judge of slave flesh. It had been a good night so far with brisk bidding and good final prices. One reluctant bitch had balked at commands and gone under the projected price. She was being chastised in another part of the facility.

______________________________________

The two house slaves, one male, one female, bare but for attractive and complicated leather harnesses, led #4 to the dais. They attached her wrist chain to a hook and slowly winched her arms above her head, stretching her breasts up. Robotic cameras slowly panned around her, front and back, top to bottom, now close up, now full length. This perusal lasted for several minutes. Then the Headmistress entered, masked and resplendent in her red PVC catsuit.

"And now Mistresses and Masters, the star of tonight's auction, the lovely #4!"

The theatrical lights began to shimmer and change colours tossing hues and contrasts over the slave's body. #4 thought she must look like a piece of art at a museum. She realized, that in a manner of speaking she was. A commodity, a toy, property to be bought by the highest bidder who could then use her as she or he would for as long and as hard as they liked. Her pussy began to fairly leak down her thighs, a fact pointed out by the Mistress who stroked her soaked cunt.

"Look how ready she is! This one was born to serve, and for the right price, she will serve you faithfully and passionately. You have seen her training tapes. You know she is skilled, obedient and enthusiastic. What else can we show you?"

The Mistress looked up at the screen in the corner, a few low-ball bids had already appeared. #4 could hear a small buzz in the Mistresses' earwig.

"Of course!" She moved to a side table and picked up a set of alligator clips with a heavy chain. Silently she moved to the suspended slave. She bent to lick a nipple to stiffen it and realized they were already protruding. "See?" she said pulling back for the cameras, " She is all ready and eager!"

With no gentleness whatsoever she snapped the clips shut, first one, then the other. #4 let go a moan and closed her eyes, but did not cry out. She groaned again when Mistress simply dropped the heavy chain dragging her breasts downward. The Mistress patted her cheek, her pride and even affection communicated by a touch.

The ear wig buzzed again. At a signal the winch whirred again lifting #4 fully off the ground. The Mistress reached for a bullwhip - no warm-up today. Testing her reach she let fly, a full body swing that caught #4 right across the tit clamps and swung around to her back. She had not been told to count, but did so anyway. "One, thank you Mistress. May I have another?"

Because of a motor on the winch, #4 was slowly rotating, turning in full circles. The second blow caught her full across her asscheeks, the tip viciously snapping all the way around to catch her vulva. She screamed...and counted. On and on the blows came, 25 in all until she hung limply, every inch of her torso and legs in agony. No one whipped like Mistress!

On the tote board the price was climbing nicely - a good number certainly, but the Mistress knew it could go higher.

The earwig buzzed again. Mistress signalled to the male slave who tripped the cable release. #4 crashed to the dais in a surprised heap. He stepped in front of her. "Serve him!" cracked the Mistress' voice like a whip of a different kind.

He had been chosen for this duty because of the enormous size of his cock. Silent tears streaming down her cheeks, #4 struggled to her knees and into the appropriate serving position, again lifting the painful weight of chain stretching her punished tits. Grasping his growing cock in her hand, she first licked and toyed with it. A crop struck her butt. "Get on with it!" barked the Mistress, "All the way!"

In seconds #4 was diving down his shaft stretching her mouth as wide as she could. Four, five, six times she bobbed until he wrapped her hair in his hand and forced his cock all the way down. She had been ready for this and let her throat open. The monster cock slid deep into her throat, the full nine inches disappearing, her nose mashing his clean shaven pubis.

And he held her there. Panic rose in her at the inability to breathe. She had often thought that when she died, it would be with a cock choking her to death. But that would not be today. She was being sold! #4 fought her reflexes and instead of gagging or struggling for air, simply took it and took it looking up for the cameras. No one would call the look on her suffocating face blissful, but it was...peaceful. In the completeness of her submission, she would give her very life if demanded.

The tote board lit up with new bids each second the male slave held her firm. Her head began to swim, the edges of her vision blackening. Her eyes rolled up in her head and #4 went limp. Only then did the massive male let go. #4 fell again to the floor, gasping for breath. And then, amazingly, she crawled again to her knees assuming a catalogue perfect pose, legs spread, hands resting palm upward on thighs, breasts thrust out.

The Mistress was amazed. The bids damn near broke the computer.

And then it was over. "Sold! declared the Headmistress, smiling at the new record price for a single slave."

She turned one more time to the table in the corner. Checking the names of several boxes stacked there she opened the appropriate one and removed the contents. She strode over and stood behind #4. "Head high, slave. You are now owned."

#4 lifted her head and closed her eyes, savouring the words. New tears rolled down her cheeks, but these were tears of pride. She felt the Mistress place a collar around her neck and heard a snick of a locking mechanism that signalled the finality of a very permanent collar. #4 opened her eyes and checked the monitor. Her dishevelled and tear streaked face looked radiant as she gazed at the thin platinum ring shining duly, rings dangling at the centre and both sides. She had realized her dream...she was owned!

The house slaves lifted her to her feet almost gently, removed the nipple clamps and guided her out of the auction room. The Mistress followed.

She grasped #4 and spun her around, leaning down and kissing her deeply and sensuously. "You are, and I suspect will always be my best work, #4. I have seldom have had cause to say this, but I believe I will miss you.

"Tomorrow you will be prepared for shipping to your new home. It is a long way off. You will be cuffed, gagged, blindfolded including sound suppressing ear plugs. Your owner demands complete sensory deprivation. You will be crated. Don't be afraid. Your owner paid a great deal for you. You will not be damaged ...in transit at least.

"But for one more night, you are mine. Come, let me bathe you, enjoy a fine meal with you and tonight...you have earned a mind-blowing orgasm, maybe several. It's my turn to serve your pleasure."

As they walked down the corridor towards the Mistresses' lavish quarters #4 smiled as broadly as ever, proud of the confirmation of her slavery.

  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • BDSM
  • /
  • #4's Auction

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 18 milliseconds