“I do,” Erica said boldly. “Trevor dominated me today; he took me hard, he made me do whatever he wanted. Things I didn’t want at first, but then I did, because it made me feel so hot.”
“Blake does that to me, too,” Mandy offered, trying to be helpful.
Pamela embraced both girls, thinking of Tom. “You poor dears,” she lamented. “It should never have come to this. You should have the chance to be love slaves, submissive girlfriends, astronauts, whatever you want. Not this.”
“I hope my master is very strong,” Erica decided. “I hope he’s smart and handsome and I want him to put me in my place right away.”
“I want mine to be handsome, too…and popular,” added Mandy.
Pamela smiled; they were clueless, as most eighteen-year-olds were. Herself included. Maybe it was better that way, she thought as the matrons came to retrieve them.
“You are going in sequence. Is theme,” explained the silver-haired woman, pushing the naked females out one after the other. “American Beauty Roses. I think is foolishness, but no one ask Talya her opinion.”
The one called Talya herded them up the stairs, two flights of them to the main floor. The snap of riding crops to their bare, numbered asses encouraged alacrity. When Mandy stumbled, the other two picked her up immediately.
“Move it!” Talya carped. “Lazy American Beauty Sluts. Men wait for you!”
***
Trevor was fighting his erection. Blake, sitting beside him was doing the same. As a joke—or rather what passed in Maki’s sick mind as a joke—the two young men had been tied next to each other, their hands secured to the armrests of a pair of solid cherry wood chairs. They were nude from the waist down. A young slender Mexican woman with jet-black hair on her head and a brand on her thigh was given the task of keeping the eighteen-year-olds hard. It was a fine line the lovely little slave walked; if they flagged, she would be whipped, but if they came she would be whipped all the harder.
Trevor liked the girl’s eyes and her pouting lips. Supposedly she had been sold into slavery in Chihuahua State on her eighteenth birthday to pay her family’s debts. She’d served in a brothel, chained by the ankle to a metal cot for two years before being sent to El Norte as part of a consignment. Lorenzo said she was twenty-three now, which meant she’d known nothing but cock sucking, penetration and beatings for five years. The years had told on her and she might well have been thirty, despite the excellent condition of her slave body.
Would Erica look like that one day? He didn’t want to think of it. As the night wore on, though, he knew the time was approaching. Slave after slave had been offered up for sale, Asians, Europeans, Africans, even a pair of Polynesian twins captured on a rare pirating expedition to the South Seas. He half hoped Mandy would come out first, before Erica, though he knew that would devastate Blake.
Whatever happened, they had to hold on, and not give Maki and Lorenzo any satisfaction.
“And now,” announced the auctioneer, a hooded British dude in a black vest that revealed an aging, but still formidable chest. “Our piece d’resistance. Gentlemen, the House is proud to present, the American Beauty Rose series…genuine specimens of Middle American, pristine, femininity, with a smattering of raunchy sexuality. First up, a delightful eighteen-year-old, dark haired, sweetly cradled, a hundred ten pounds of prime meat.”
Trevor grabbed the edge of the armrest as the naked Erica was shoved out onto the stage. From his vantage point, front and center, he could see it all, though under those torching lights, he didn’t think she could see anything at all.
Trevor cringed to see her collared as the rest of them had been. They’d put a number on her tit and ass, too. The idea overwhelmed him that someone had done that to her, putting his filthy hands on her, molesting her with a grease pencil. Maybe they’d fucked her, too. What difference did it make, though? She was a barefoot slave girl about to be sold on the auction block.
Erica tried to run, but the Overseer snagged her easily by the back of her long hair. Unable to wrest herself free with her hands, she had no choice but to stumble backward and stand right where he wanted her.
Pulling her close, he dipped a hand between her legs—firm and brutal. The thumb was stroking her to pleasure, but the hooked fingers were keeping her on the brink of pain. “You do as I tell you,” he told her loud enough for Trevor to hear. “Or I will whip you till you bleed, right here on this stage.”
There was a bullwhip in his other hand, coiled like a snake. He had high leather boots and a pair of tight leather breeches, like a modern day Samurai.
Erica, overwhelmed by fear as well as by the sensations of the thumb on her clit, became instantly docile. “Yes,” Trevor heard her say, the voice hardly sounding like her own. “Master.”
“Hands behind your head, 456-L8,” he addressed her by the number written across her left breast—a duplicate of the one on her firm ass cheek. “Don’t move them till I say so.”
Erica complied without hesitation.
“Back arched,” he tapped her with the handle of the bullwhip.
Her breasts were instantly stretched and presented, as was her taut belly.
“Legs apart.”
Again, Trevor’s classmate obeyed without question. He could see already on her face, in her breathing…this was turning her on.
“Firm as rubber,” the Overseer toyed with Erica’s breasts, introducing her to the buyers. “Brings back memories, doesn’t she, gentlemen? Your first screw…Who was she, friends? The girl next store you had behind your Dad’s shed, or was it in the back of his Oldsmobile—the prom queen, maybe, her legs up on the seat wide as the Red Sea, her panties already on the rear view mirror as a trophy?”
Erica sucked in her gut as he ran the whip handle down her sculpted belly. Her breaths were ragged; she looked more than ready to be taken. He’d never seen her or any girl look so good, not even a centerfold. It was as if this Overseer, this old man was bringing out her true nature, her hidden slave self. Trevor got angry thinking of it—how he wasn’t going to be enjoying all that sexiness. Instead, she’d be going to Mexico, Pakistan—anywhere on the globe.
“The pussy’s used,” he stopped the leather handle at the entrance to her slit. “I won’t lie to you gentleman. But consider the passion, the youth…not to mention the opportunity to break her into slavery.”
Erica welcomed the whip handle like a lost lover. Almost at once, subtly, her pelvis began to move against it. She was moaning, very softly and her eyes were closing. In and out he went, in and out, the depth, the pressure varying with each thrust. The Overseer was playing her, like a violin.
“Have I a bid, gentlemen?”
“Five hundred!” called a man in the back row.
“Five,” the Overseer shook his head, removing the whip handle from the writhing girl. “Such a shame for a rare piece like this…eighteen and never been chained, whipped, or taught to crawl properly at a man’s feet.”
“Six.”
“Seven!”
“Eight.”
The Overseer smiled as he pushed the black leather against Erica’s lips. Predictably. Falling right into his nefarious plans, she opened her mouth like a bird, her eyes tight shut, taking in the leather device, licking and sucking it clean of her own sex juice.
“And an anal virgin, as I understand it…”
Nine was followed rapidly by a thousand and then eleven and twelve hundred. When he made her lie on the floor and display herself, the whip snapping and teasing her extremities, it was like the floor of the stock market. Thirteen, fourteen, all the way up to eighteen hundred dollars.
Nearly two thousand dollars for the body of the girl he loved, for the right to have and keep her forever on whatever terms the man might dictate. No strings attached, no divorce, no rights whatsoever. Trevor was scared for her, indignant…and jealous as hell.
The little Mexican whore was on him again, licking him until he thought he was going to explode. He looked at her, teet
h gritted, trying to scare her off. Her face had no expression, she was obeying Maki, her master and she would continue to do so till either he told her to stop or she dropped dead from trying.
“Hey, man, be strong…for Erica,” Blake was leaning over telling him to keep his cool. “Don’t diss her by shooting off a load…not while she’s up there suffering.”
It was too late; Erica was on all fours, crawling, the whip handle protruding from her cunt, like a tail, the Overseer’s boot driving her round the stage, accompanied by howls of laughter. Closing his eyes in shame, he ejaculated, feeling like the lowest scum for getting off on the total degradation of his own girlfriend.
“I can’t wait till it’s Mandy writhing up there on her belly like a total slut!” he cried taking out his anger at Blake. “Then we’ll see how together you are.”
A few minutes later, Erica was led away; her young body having fetched a whopping twenty-one hundred dollars. She was too weak to stand; they simply clipped a leash on to her collar and led her away on all fours. Trevor hadn’t even seen who bought her. At present he was feeling doubly miserable, because now the Mexican was being whipped and forced to make him hard all over again, the crop biting her brown flesh viciously as she bobbed her head in pain.
“Aw, hell,” he heard Blake exclaim.
Mandy had come out, looking totally bewildered in her birthday suit. She was trying to shake out her long mane of golden hair and get her bearings. There were men out there, and she was a blonde. What more needed to be said?
The Overseer, seeing the opportunity for a little fun and maybe a way to turn a bigger profit, encouraged her to strike a seductive pose. “I’m not sure we’ve ever had a girl as pretty as this,” he deadpanned. “She could be a centerfold, don’t you think, gentlemen?”
The room was oddly silent.
Mandy played right into it, trying to copy some silly cheesecake poses she must have seen on TV. There was no doubt the girl was way sexy, but Trevor had a feeling she was about to get her comeuppance.
The Overseer urged her on as she looked over her shoulder for support. Backing up, he put his hands together, encouraging applause.
It came reluctantly, skeptically. These men had probably seen hundreds of girls like this—heck, half the girls in this club were as pretty or prettier than Mandy.
“Hey, Blake, dude,” he leaned over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s all right, man.”
“I know you can stay strong, Blake. You’re not a wuss like me.”
“You’re not a wuss, Trev.”
Trevor felt the love for his friend well up in his throat. “Represent, Blake.”
“Represent, Trev.”
Both boys had their eyes glued on the girl. Mandy never even saw it coming. She was blowing kisses, looking like a goddess, teasing with her hands over her golden bush when the tip of the whip struck, dead center on her back.
The crack was audible. The Overseer must have been an expert, because he’d snapped it back just in time. While Mandy was hurting, it was only a sting and not the devastating blow it could have been.
“Ow!” she cried. “What was that for?”
He whipped her breasts as soon as she turned. Mandy cowered now, covering herself.
“Get down on your belly,” the Overseer told her. “Crawl over here and lick my boots clean.”
Mandy hesitated till he raised his arm again. She gave a little cry and began to lower herself to the dirty wooden floor.
“This one’s eighteen, too,” explained the Overseer to the unseen crowd as the sobbing girl came to him wriggling like a worm. “A true Golden Girl, spoiled, too beautiful for her own good and begging for the right master.”
“One thousand!” boomed a deep voice from a table in the far corner.
“I hear a thousand…before I take any more bids, may we have the Horse, please?”
Mandy was busy bathing the Overseer’s boots with her small tongue, her hair fanned about them like a splendid golden blanket. Trevor watched in horror mixed with awe as the device was wheeled out. He could see the strain in Blake’s face and body. The Horse was no ordinary saw horse, but a pummel, mounded on legs with a dildo in the center, and straps, clearly meant to hold a girl. There was also something on the bottom that looked like an encased motor.
Two men lifted Mandy like a rag doll by either arm, carrying her, feet dangling. Without ado, they deposited her, smack dab onto the dildo. By the time she realized what was happening it was too late.
“Please, no,” she cried, but they were already strapping down her ankles on either side and fitting her waist with the thick leather belt. Next they applied the cuffs to either wrist, at her side, so that she was completely imprisoned.
The true devilishness of the apparatus wasn’t apparent till they turned it on. In order to stay upright, Mandy had to clench her legs and rock up and down on the moving pummel. In effect she was being forced to masturbate, at whatever speed they wanted her to.
“Oh, God,” she cried. “Stop!”
“Behold, gentlemen,” he featured the perfect blonde, her tits and belly and wildly arrayed hair mesmerizing the crowd. “Less than a minute and already the young lady is undulating and writhing better than any hooker or stripper…and all with just a tiny kiss of the whip. Imagine this lot number after a month of heavy discipline, humbled and broken as you know she deserves…as she herself desires…serving your every whim, gliding her mouth over your manhood for some small treat, an extra tidbit in her bowl…putting out for you like a dream of submission in hopes of a pat on the head, a chance to sleep in bed with you even if just for an hour…or groveling at your feet, imploring you not to beat her as is her due for the poor and indifferent job she has done in tending to some small task, such as polishing your shoes or washing your underwear…”
“Two thousand!” a man stood dramatically, his face heavily shadowed.
“Two thousand five hundred!” countered another.
Mandy, at the whim of the mechanical Horse, was coming over and over and over. Her face was a totally entrancing mix of lust and joy and distress…the most beautiful look Trevor had ever seen on a woman, of any age.
The bids persisted, but Trevor tuned them out. He didn’t want to come again, because the little slave would be beaten a second time, but he couldn’t help it. He groaned as his hot, wet ejaculation spilled into the servile, velvety mouth. Dimly he heard the word, “sold,” the amount, three thousand and something.
“You’ve done it this time, Maria,” growled one of the guards.
The Mexican girl made no protest as she was dragged away by the hair, her body bent forward at the man’s waist. Blake was coming, too, his cock totally unattended. He looked miserable, because he was just shooting into the air and also because that was his girlfriend up there, fucking a mechanical horse, drawing bids twice as high as Erica had gotten.
Maki quickly ordered a slave to intercept the spray. Thrusting herself over his crotch, she caught as much as she could. Most of it landed on her, a fact over which she seemed relieved.
“Blake,” Trev said, barely finding his voice. “I’m sorry, man…I didn’t mean to…not again.”
“It’s okay, dude,” he replied softly as they watched a man carry the barely conscience Mandy off the stage on his shoulder, the whip marks on her back and the scrawled number plainly visible on her ass. “Me, neither.”
“Blake?”
“Yeah, Trev?”
“I think I love Erica. What about you?”
“Yeah,” he thought, finding a small, sad smile. “I love Amanda, too.”
“Shitty time to figure that one out, huh?” Trevor mused.
“Man, if that isn’t the understatement of the year, I don’t know what is.”
They were both managing a chuckle just as the Overseer announced the finale. Their ears perked up when they heard it was a former English teacher, from a local private school, a blonde who’d escaped slavery once in her
life only to fall back into it…this time forever.
“Blake, you don’t think…”
“No,” Blake shook his head. “There’s no way…”
***
Pamela supposed she should be flattered, having been reserved for the final spot of the evening. That made her the most desirable piece of meat on the market tonight. Objectively, that wasn’t true. Any number of girls were younger and prettier and more desirable, her two former students among them. But the women didn’t make these choices; men did, masters who had different agendas. Different ideas about what made women worth owning, and how much money they might fetch on a given night. That was the part of Pamela’s slavery that had always most deeply aroused her; the knowledge that men were with her only because of the value they saw in her body. She was worth so much to possess an hour, and when a man paid his money he wanted everything. She was a product. A service. A soft and cuddly bit of entertainment, somewhere between a video game and a really good rub down or sauna. Sometimes when a man came inside her, with that look on his face, totally self absorbed and self fulfilled, like she was nothing more than a hole, she would nearly turn herself inside out with a climax of her own. Towards the end, she’d gotten that feeling before they so much as touched her; across the room she could orgasm, with or without clothes on just knowing that a man was appraising her, parceling her up, thinking what he’d do to her, piece by piece…breasts and ass and nipples and toes and fingers…even the insides of her mouth and sandpaper tongue.
For the finale, the House had prepared something special. A little play scene, complete with costumes. Pamela was dressed as a teacher, in a modified version of classroom attire. The tweed skirt was mockingly short, of course, barely covering her crotch. It was made for a younger woman, clearly, as was the blouse, which barely stretched across Pamela’s healthy, naked tits. She could barely breathe and she was afraid the buttons might pop at any moment.
The shoes were her only other garment. They were stilettos, ridiculously high and painful to walk in. In case she had the bright idea to take them off, there was a tiny padlock on each of the ankle straps. There was also a very feminine choker, with a heart-shaped lock, made of gold.
Punishing Pamela Page 16
