“This is your outfit, Wendy Darling, and it is going to look magnificent on you,” Paxton exclaimed, holding up a powder blue strapped gown that fell to the floor and beamed in the light.
Underneath the gown, I wore a midnight black bra that barely covered my nipples and a matching black thong with a powder blue bow. My shoes were dangerously high, but thankfully I had been practicing in my down time between Paxton and Preston’s lessons.
Sliding the gown over my head, I looked at myself again. This was not the same girl who had woken up in a strange bed, scared for her life. This girl was older, and no longer held onto that touch of innocence. In the lighting, my brand was like a spotlight on my face. The number twelve surrounded by a circle of flames stood out even amongst the dark eye makeup. My hair was pinned up in curls, with loose tendrils outlining my face. I imagined this is what I would look like if I were going to prom.
“You look stunning. The blue is the perfect color for you,” he said, caressing my cheek with his hand. “You could fly to Neverland right now,” he whispered.
“I’m scared,” I whispered into his palm, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.
“I know. But you’re going to be amazing, and I’ll be watching the entire time.”
“Are you sure you can’t be there with me?” I asked again for the hundredth time.
“You already know the answer. Until you have been sold, and the final debt has been paid for Paul’s life, I cannot be seen by anyone except family.”
“I know,” I dropped my head and gazed at the floor.
“You’re so strong. You can do this. I have to go now, but your light should come on shortly. Be ready by the time the red light goes off. Preston will come down to get you.”
“Goodbye, Paxton.”
“Goodbye, Wendy Darling.”
When the door closed behind him, I let one single, solitary tear fall from my eyes. That would be the only tear I cried tonight, or at least I hoped it would be.
Click, Click, Click.
Red Light.
Standing just on the other side of the entrance, I took deep, calming breaths, while counting the seconds until the door opened.
Paxton’s faith in me was like nothing I had ever experienced before, and I bottled it, keeping it in my heart to hopefully see me through this evening.
My plan was simple. Do my damn best, while attempting to find the man who treated me the best. When I found him, I’d use every trick I had learned to make him bid the highest for me. The idea of being a slave for the rest of my life wasn’t appealing, but knowing I could have a man who would treat me as not only a slave but as also a queen was definitely the goal. If I couldn’t have Paxton, I’d try and get the next best thing.
The doorknob turned, and as directed by Paxton earlier in my training for this day, I stayed upright to avoid wrinkling my dress, my hands linked together in front of me, and my head bowed.
I had smelled him before I saw him. Spice aftershave, and freshly washed hair. I knew it would be pulled back, it always was. What I hadn’t expected was to hear a pair of shoes walk towards me instead of Preston’s usually bare feet.
“Is my little slut ready to play?” Preston leaned in, whispering in my ear.
“Yes, Master,” I replied, remembering the rules had already started, and the games were now beginning.
“And is my little slut ready to be sold to the highest bidder?”
“Yes, Master,” I replied again.
“Would you like me to buy you, slut?”
Without missing a beat, I replied, “Yes, Master.”
Of course, that wasn’t true, in any sense of the word, but, ‘no’ was not a word I was allowed to use.
“Interesting. Follow me.”
Following along behind him, I took great care with the stairs and my exceptionally high shoes. Falling into Preston would be one of the worst ways to start out this Test Day, and I was determined to see it through to the end, for Paxton’s sake.
When I entered the Great Room behind Preston, I had to refrain from letting my jaw hit the floor. Paxton had told me I had been a hot commodity from the pictures, but I didn’t realize so many people would be here, for me alone. At least a hundred men filled the grand space around us, and through my peripheral vision, it looked as if every single one of them was ready to devour me for dinner.
Preston took me to the center of the room, where a single pillow rested on the floor. When we stopped, I waited for my instructions.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Preston’s voice boomed next to me. “May I present to you, Number Twelve.”
A few men around me clapped, while most just stared, but more than a few, made lewd remarks about my breasts, my ass, and my face.
“Show us her tits!” One man yelled from in front of me.
“I’m going to fuck the shit out of that tight asshole, slave. Just you wait,” came a voice from behind us.
“Yes, yes. You’ll all get your turn with her,” Preston chuckled.
Coming to stand behind me, Preston put his hands on my shoulders. With extreme delicacy, I didn’t know he possessed, Preston wrapped his fingers under the thin straps of my dress and pushed them off my shoulders.
The silky material pooled at my feet as my entire body was exposed to every hungry eye in the room.
“Number Twelve has been with us for sixteen months, one week, and six days. She has been trained to do everything you might need, including household chores, cooking, serving, and cleaning. She—”
“Let’s see her pussy!” a man to my right yelled, as others murmured their agreement.
“Mr. Davenport, you will get your opportunity, please be patient,” Preston responded impatiently before continuing his spiel. “Number Twelve has in-depth knowledge and experience with oral, vaginal, and anal play, and is extremely pliable if your needs should involve BDSM. She can handle a flogger, a riding crop, and a bullwhip with ease, and is not opposed to blood play.”
If Preston could have seen my eyes, the punishment would have been severe. As it was, I was having a difficult time not vomiting down the front of my chest. This was literally something out of an auction. He was describing me like I was cattle to be sold or fine dining Crystal ware. I wasn’t a human being to these people. I was a product. An eBay ad. A hole to stuff their cock in, and a maid to bring them food and wine. I was a slave to them, nothing more.
“I will now show her, please keep your hands to yourself during the demonstration.”
So only I could hear, Preston leaned in. “Head up slave.”
When my head was lifted, my eyes level with the growing crowd of men, Preston secured a choker around my neck and attached a leash.
“To your knees.”
As gracefully as possible, I lowered down to my knees and placed my hands on the floor in front of me.
“Walk.”
Preston kept the leash tight as he walked next to my crawling form to the edge of the crowd.
“As you can see, Number Twelve is extremely obedient, listening to every command given. Slave, sit.”
With his words, I pushed myself up from the floor and assumed my kneeling position I had come to know so well.
A few men came close to me, examining me, but no one touched.
“Walk.”
And so, the pattern started until we had completed two full laps around the interested buyers. Once we were back in the center of the circle, I assumed my kneeling position as Preston removed the leash.
“Stand, slave,” Preston ordered, waiting for me to make it to my feet.
Coming around to my back again, his fingers unhooked the straps of my bra, and let the strapless fabric fall to the floor. My nipples instantly pebbled as the cold air hit them.
Hooking his fingers into the sides of my thong, he gingerly pulled them down my calves and tapped each ankle for me to step out of them.
Fully naked, I stood in front of over a hundred men, but in my head, only one man could see m
e.
Paxton.
Preston pushed the pillow in front of me and ordered me to kneel. Having the pillow wasn’t a luxury I had ever been given by this man, and even though the hate I felt for him was high, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness for his plight, and a little gratitude for the thought.
“Now before we begin the festivities, does anyone have any questions for me?” Preston asked.
A barrage of questions rang out from all around me. Some were simple, like my waxing preferences, but some were crude and revolting.
“Can she take multiple cocks?” One man asked.
“She can, and she has. She is experienced in both double penetration, double anal, and double vaginal. We haven’t tried three at once, but I’m sure some of you lucky gentlemen will attempt it tonight,” Preston laughed, as I shuddered.
“What’s her pain tolerance,” another asked.
“As I mentioned, I have used many implements on her, and she has never passed out. I would say it’s pretty high. If you’re the highest bidder, maybe you’ll get to find her limits, right Hank?”
The crowd laughed, while I tried desperately to keep my mental wall from crumbling around me. Preston was lying to these men to get the best sale. I had in fact passed out, on several occasions because the pain had become too much for my broken body, but I wasn’t going to voice that out loud.
“Will she eat a big fat, juicy, pussy?” Another onlooker asked.
“We haven’t done any lesbian play, but why don’t we ask her. Slave?” Preston addressed me. “Would you like to eat a big, fat, juicy, pussy?”
No, No, No, No! My head screamed.
“Yes, Master.”
“There ya have it, gentlemen, she would love to, unfortunately, I don’t see any other women present at this event, so you will just have to have the largest checkbook, and a willing cunt for her to eat at home.”
I blew out a silent breath of thanks, I wouldn’t have to try something new on the day I needed to be the best. I could only hope whoever had asked that question, didn’t win the highest bid. I’d do what needed to be done to survive, but I didn’t relish the thought of licking another woman’s vagina.
“Alright gentlemen, settle down. If there are any other questions, you can ask me directly at any point throughout the evening, or you each have my telephone number, and you can reach me anytime. Without further ado, I present to you, Number Twelve. Try not to ruin her, I still need to sell her. Remember the golden rule. You break it, you buy it. Have at her boys.”
With that, Preston walked away laughing, as two hundred legs swarmed me, two hundred hands carried me into my own personal hell, and one hundred and one souls were delivered to Satan’s doorstep, mine being the one on top.
Chapter 12
What’s the saying? The one about the rag doll being flopped around? I was that rag doll; my limbs being manhandled and contorted with no care to the body they were attached to. I was pulled, stretched, and bent, all in the vain attempt to get me into a position before someone else could move me again.
There was no organization to the madness of this Test Day, just one hundred greedy minds, and one hundred horny dicks.
Fear was the only emotion processing in my brain, and the insane urge to bat them all away and run from this place of hell. No one had actually done anything serious to me since Preston gave them free range, but that was because they couldn’t stop fighting over me. I just hoped they would run out of stamina before they organized against me.
As usual, the only luck I possessed was bad luck.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” one man with his hand on my leg shouted, “We all want a taste, let’s figure this shit out!”
The murmurs of agreement echoed around my brain, making me shudder.
“And you’re going to get the first taste, right Joe?” Another man sarcastically spat beside him.
“I say we let young Erick have the first lick. It is his first Test Day after all,” the man, ‘Joe’ retorted.
Grumbles filled the air, but the men seemed to organize much to my horror and dismay.
As I was placed on a bed, my position returned to kneeling, they lined up against the opposing wall, each in some state of undress, from feeling themselves up outside of their jeans, all the way to full nudity, eyeing me salaciously as they feverishly stroked their waiting cocks.
A young boy, not much older than eighteen approached me with a hunger and evil glint shining out of his pale green eyes.
“Hello, slave,” he whispered sadistically, the jeans of his pants belaying his excitement.
“Hello, Sir,” I answered back, petrified of the way his eyes told me a story of the horror I would face. He was young and mean, and he didn’t have to say anything at all to make sure I knew.
“Remove my jeans, whore,” he commanded.
Without a second thought, I scrambled closer to him and reached my hands out to his buttons. Smacking them away, I looked up at him, confusion evident on my face.
“With your mouth.”
With my mouth? How the fuck was I supposed to unbutton a pair of jeans, and undo a zipper, let alone pull down a pair of tight jeans with only my mouth?
“Are you fucking DEAF girl. Do it NOW!” he screamed, backhanding me off the bed to his feet.
As quickly as I could manage with my head now screaming out in pain. I crawled over to the boy and put my mouth to his crotch. Trying to be as clever as possible, I grabbed the pull tab to his zipper with my teeth and pulled, mentally cheering when the pants separated in front of me. Once the zipper was down, revealing his cock beneath it, I lifted back up on my knees to grab the jean fabric below the button again with my teeth and pulled up. Much to my relief, it opened easily.
With two of the three tasks done, I almost forgot there were ninety-nine other men, waiting impatiently for their own turn.
“Remove your own fucking pants, Erick, we don’t have all fucking night,” one of them screamed, alerting me once more to their presence.
“Fine,” he shouted before pushing my face away and shimmying out of his jeans.
When his dick popped out, it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to laugh. Poor Erick was a bit smaller than I was used to, overcrowded by the mane of black hair around it.
“What are you staring at, you fucking bitch, suck it.” he yelled, grabbing the back of my head and forcefully shoving my mouth on his cock.
His hair instantly tickled my nose, as he attempted to reach the back of my throat. His thrusts became more violent when he realized I wasn’t fazed by the sheer lack of size of him.
With my head on fire where his fingers dug into my skull, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I had to make him believe he was affecting me. Calling on my powers of persuasion, I lifted my tongue to the back of my throat and forced myself to gag, producing strands of thick saliva coating Erick’s dick still attached to my open mouth.
The crowd around us cheered as he continued to try and fuck my face and I pretended to gag on him, and it wasn’t long at all before his balls tensed up, and his cock swelled in my mouth. I had been prepared to swallow the vile liquid, as I’d always done for Preston, but little Erick pulled out of my mouth and without warning shot his warm cum all over my face. Instinctively I closed my eyes.
“Oh no, you don’t whore,” a man came up from behind me as he used his index finger and thumb to pry my eyelids apart.
As if in slow motion, my pupils watched as a drop of salty jizz fell from my opened eyelids and straight into my eye, followed by another drop, and then another. I tried desperately not to cry out, but the sting was intense, my body trying in vain to shut my lids from the onslaught.
“Fucking, whore,” Erick shouted before grabbing my chin and forcing it down, so he could pucker his lips and spit into my open mouth.
“Nice job, kid,” the man holding my eyes open laughed.
“I ain’t no fucking kid,” Erick seethed before pulling up his pants and walk
ing away.
Letting go of my eyes, the man behind me ducked down and whispered into my ear, “My turn.” With his fingers under my armpits, he hoisted me up from the ground, to a standing position, before unceremoniously lifting my left leg and placing my high heel on the edge of the bed.
The sound of his throat muscles drawing up spit, had my stomach churning as he wiped his spit laden hands between my legs and bent me forward.
“Let’s see how this tight little cunt likes a real man’s cock,” he shouted to the men around us before he pile drove into my pussy, making my right leg almost collapse from underneath me.
With no finesse to be had, he continued ramming into me, with one hand in the crook of my left leg and one on my shoulder, forcefully pushing me back onto his cock. Unlike Erick, it was obvious this man was not small, and I was taking the brunt of his endowment.
“You like that, you fucking whore? Do you? Want another cock in your tight little cunt?”
I wanted to cry no.
“Yes, Sir.” I screeched, as his left hand came under my leg to find the place we were joined.
The pinch was not light. Instead, he gripped my clit in between his thumb and his index knuckle, and he squeezed. The scream was loud, echoing off the walls, but it only seemed to ignite the energy and tension in the room to insurmountable heights.
The man pulled out of me quickly, grabbing my leg to bring it back to the floor, before pushing on my shoulder blades to bend me over, my ass exposed to him.
With no prep, and no gentleness to be found, the head of his cock speared into my ass, shooting pain through my body. Once he was fully planted inside of me, my tears dripping onto the floor, his hand came around to my throat, and pulled me back up to him.
Trapped: Her Love Story Page 14
