On the Auction Block (5 page)

Flame had never before sucked a man’s cock.
She wondered how many different cocks she was going to have to suck
now. A lot, she guessed. She was going to learn to do it very well,
indeed.

She couldn’t complain about that. She had
volunteered for the job.

“Do you have any questions?”

She did. “In the other room, I was injected
with something. Do you know what it was?”

“One of the shots was a contraceptive. Unless
told otherwise, we presume that your owner doesn’t want you
pregnant. You’ll get one shot every month from your kennelman.
Unless your owner decides to have your ovaries removed.”

Flame felt queasy. She hadn’t considered that
her owner could sterilize her any time he felt like it. Or modify
her in any way he chose. She had noticed that none of the slaves
who were sold today were flat chested. In fact, all were well
endowed. She wondered how many had been surgically improved by
their owners. Her natural breasts were already a good size, but
maybe her new owner liked tits the size of watermelons. If so, he
would have implants installed.

She could only pray that she would never be
owned by a man with a fetish for amputees. Or someone who liked his
slaves mute.

The woman didn’t notice Flame’s sudden
disquiet. Or didn’t care. She just kept talking. “Some owners
prefer a sterile slave, others want to keep the possibility of
breeding open. The other shots were vaccinations. We have them for
most sexually-transmitted diseases. All the common ones. It’ll take
a couple of weeks for you to build an immunity but most gentlemen
are clean so you’ll probably be okay until then. Your owner might
not pass you around if he wants to enjoy you exclusively for a
while first. On the other hand, he might start throwing a lot of
parties to show you off right away. You never can tell. ”

Flame hung her head at the thought of being
passed around. She had imagined James buying her and keeping her to
himself.

Irene had been so foolish. But Flame was
going to handle whatever came. This was her new life.

“Get yourself made up,” the woman said. “I’ll
be back in a while to inspect you.” Her voice lost its mother-hen
tone. “Do a good job or you’ll regret it. If you don’t pass
inspection, I know how to discipline a slave so that it doesn’t
leave a mark but makes her suffer for days.”

As soon as the woman left, Flame set to work
with all the skill that she had developed during her life as a
lady.

When the woman returned, she examined Flame’s
face critically. “You’ll do for now. That’s lady makeup but you’re
a fallen lady so it’s appropriate today. Your owner will wipe that
off your face with his cock. Next time, though, take a close look
at other slaves. Slave makeup is bolder. More sensual. Red lips.
Dark eyes. Don’t keep trying to look like a lady or your owner will
lose interest and go back to his wife. Slaves suffer enough when
they’re revered. A slave who’s not wanted any more suffers hell on
earth until she’s sold.”

She picked up the handcuffs. “Now get out of
that chair and turn around.”

When Flame’s wrists were cuffed again, the
woman parted her hair and ripped the gauze from the back of her
neck. “Bleeding’s stopped and you’ve been registered. You’re good
to go.”

Flame’s heart thudded beneath her breast.
Good to go
meant good to be taken.

The woman opened the door and the handler
stepped into the room. He was carrying the chain to clip about her
neck and lead her back to her owner.

It was already five o’clock.

* * *

Gentlemen left the auction house by the main
entrance if they were empty-handed but, if they had purchased a
slave, they left by the side entrance.

By tradition, the slave was taken from the
building nude.

A portico allowed loading out of the weather
but provided no privacy. Any time a car entered the portico, men on
the street were sure to stop and wait to see the newly-purchased
slave be led from the building into the vehicle.

Gawkers were allowed only a brief glimpse
from a distance but it was always titillating for a man who would
never be able to afford his own slave to see a beautiful nude young
specimen being led to her impending violation by her new owner.

Even slaves born to it were humiliated by
this brief exposure to random passers-by. Traditionally, slaves
wore a standard housedress when they were in public. They were only
seen nude in private by their owner, kennelmen, and invited
guests.

Flame’s owner, Mr. Dodge, did not have a
driver. He led her all the way around the car to the passenger seat
and eased her in before returning to the driver’s seat and starting
the engine.

The half dozen men who were loitering on the
street had an exceptionally long and unobstructed view of her.

Inside the car, she could not fasten her
seatbelt with her hands cuffed behind her back.

Dodge reached across and did it for her.
There was no law requiring property to be properly secured inside a
vehicle, but she was worth a hundred-thousand plaqs. He would not
risk losing such valuable property in a minor traffic accident.

After he had secured her, he took a moment to
fondle her breasts. He did not ask permission – he had not yet
spoken a single word to her – he just grabbed his property and
enjoyed the feel of her in his hands.

She didn’t look at him, just hung her head
and waited until he had had his fill of her. Her husband hadn’t
squeezed her breasts in more than a year. This soft mauling did not
feel especially pleasant, but it was oddly flattering.

Then he pulled away from the building and
merged smoothly into traffic.

He lived in a large house on Norbit Hill. It
was a good address. Members of the aristocracy lived in the
neighborhood. More esteemed members higher on the hill, and minor
members lower, but all reasonably nearby.

Dodge was wealthy enough to live a third of
the way up. As many aristocrats as commoners lived at this
altitude.

James and Irene were acquainted with people
who lived closer to the top of the hill and had visited them many
times. Now Flame wondered if she were going to become intimately
familiar with many of the gentlemen who lived here.

Even if Dodge was not that generous to his
neighbors, she would have preferred to live where she was less
likely to be seen by friends if she were sent on errands, as slaves
often were. Still, she was relieved that she was not being taken to
a farmhouse far in the country. She had little appetite for milking
cows or slopping pigs. Or for the men who did.

The wrought-iron gate opened to admit his car
and then closed behind him.

Flame looked but she couldn’t tell if the
gate was automatic or was tended by a guard. She guessed that it
was automatic. Dodge had the air of a man who liked machines better
than people.

This was not the main entrance to the
grounds. Houses with kennels usually had a slave entrance so that
the family wouldn’t be disturbed by their unseemly arrivals and
departures.

Irene had visited many houses with slave
kennels, but she had never seen one close up. They had always been
distant buildings, mostly obscured by the house and grounds.

She could see, from the outside, that this
kennel was smaller than James’.

Inside, there were three cells, a kitchen,
and a bathroom off a vestibule. There was one other door but that
was closed. She could guess what that room was for and her gut
clenched in anticipation.

The bathroom barely had room for a tiny sink,
claustrophobic shower, and a stained toilet.

The kitchen had a small refrigerator,
hotplate, sink, and a single stack of cupboards.

Pulling on the chain that was still fastened
about her neck, Dodge led her to her cell. It had a cot and a
free-standing wardrobe. There was barely room to stand.

The door locked only from the outside and
there was no window.

He kept her leashed and left her hands cuffed
behind her back.

“You’ll stay here when you’re not being
used,” he said. His first words to her.

“Yes, sir.” Her first words to him.

He led her back to the one door that had not
yet been opened.

Her breath quickened.

Dodge drew a key from his pocket and unlocked
the door.

Flame had only a moment to see that the
pleasure room was equipped with a full-sized bed, some odd
furniture, and double bathtub before she was bent across the back
of an overstuffed easy chair.

She stayed in place while Dodge shed his
shirt and dropped his trousers.

He was erect. He kicked her knees apart,
parted her nether lips with his fingers, and thrust into her with a
long, smooth stroke.

It was a sudden penetration, but she
accommodated him with ease. She had been anticipating this all day
and was so wet that she was dripping.

He grunted as he thrust.

Some part of her, the lady that was still
there, told her that she should object to the rudeness of his
assault. But the greater part of her, the primal woman that had
been so long repressed, howled for more. For deeper penetration.
For more vigorous thrusting. If she were going to get fucked, she
wanted to get really fucked. Good and hard and deep.

A bestial passion rose from the depths and
filled her consciousness. Her dainty lady-like objections were
drowned and crushed.

Flame’s hips bucked and writhed and ground
against Dodge’s, desperate to pull as much stimulation from him as
she could get.

Her cuffed hands flailed helplessly in the
air behind her back and she began to howl aloud.

Her cunt contracted hard around Dodge’s cock
as it began to pulse his seed into her.

Her body, the treacherous thing, was flooded
with pleasure.

He stayed in her for a minute, then withdrew,
pulled his pants up, and staggered to the bed.

She stayed where she was, bent over the back
of the easy chair, waiting to see if he had any instructions for
her. While she waited she basked in her afterglow and lazily
contemplated her reaction to her violation.

She had been a virgin when she married James
and had never strayed from her marital bed. Dodge was the second
man to have fucked her. This was completely different from anything
James had ever done to her and she was astounded by the pleasure
that she had felt. She had not realized how desperately she had
needed to be fucked hard and fast by a man who wanted her
badly.

As the glow began to fade, she felt a cold
drip run down the inside of her thigh. She slowly unbent and stood
erect.

Dodge watched her through half-lidded
eyes.

She waited.

Finally, he said, “Come here.”

As she walked toward the bed, he fished a key
from his pocket. “Turn around.”

She complied and he unlocked the cuffs. “Put
these on that table and then come and lie beside me.”

She put the cuffs and key on the table and
then laid down on the other side of the bed, face up.

It was a relief to be able to move her arms
again. She was about to reach up and massage her shoulders a
little, but Dodge put his hand on her breast and began to caress
it.

He said nothing, just fondled her gently.

He lay so still that she would have thought
him asleep but for the movement of his hand on her.

“I should whip you, you know.” His tone was
conversational.

She wasn’t sure what to say. Agree? Ask why?
Object? “I’m your property. You may to do with as you please.” That
was the basic fact of slavery.

“It pleases me to feel your tits.”

She scooted closer so that he wouldn’t have
to reach so far.

After a few minutes, his hand relaxed and
sagged to the bed. His breathing fell into a slow, regular cadence.
He was asleep.

She remained in place, awake, relaxed,
waiting for him to awaken and beat her. Or fuck her again. Or do
whatever else he pleased.

This was her new life. Waiting on her owner’s
pleasure.

She thought about the wardrobe in her cell.
She wondered if it contained any clothes or if she were going to
remain naked in these kennels for the rest of her days. She
wondered about food. Would her owner feed her well or put her on a
starvation diet until her ribs showed and her hips protruded? Then
she decided to stop wondering about anything. She could only accept
what happened. She no longer had the power to change her
circumstances so trying to think ahead was futile.

Maybe she napped or maybe not. She couldn’t
tell. She only knew that, when she looked again at Dodge, he was
looking back at her.

He said nothing so she spoke. “May I ask a
question?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to whip me?”

“Not especially.”

“Why did you use the word,
should
? You
said that you
should
whip me.”

“I heard that from someone. They said that an
owner should always whip his slave soon after he brings her home.
It establishes in her mind that she is his property and should fear
his discipline.”

She looked around the room. There was a
multi-tailed flogger, a leather strap, a wooden paddle, and a cane
hanging on hook above a padded bench.

“I have no doubt that I am your property. I
am yours to do with as you wish. I don’t need to be whipped to
understand that.”

“I know.”

“But if it’s recommended, then maybe you
should whip me. Just to be certain that you haven’t missed an
important step in breaking me to my new position.”

“Do you want to be whipped?”

“No. I’ve never been whipped before. The idea
terrifies me.” Her heart was pounding again. Today, she had been
subjected to one ordeal after another.

She climbed out of bed and walked across the
room to the whipping bench. It was a heavy wooden frame fitted with
leather pads. When the leather cuffs at the corners were strapped
about her wrists and ankles, she would be kneeling with her torso
covering the length of the bench. In that position, her buttocks
would protrude and her back be exposed. The frame was raised so
that her calves would be presented at knee level and her back at
waist level. A man with a whip would have unrestricted access to
her back, buttocks, thighs, and calves.