I can hear a woman on a loudspeaker welcoming everyone to the slave auction. All proceeds go to the homeless shelter and food bank. She softly says all the rules in a low, quick voice like a lawyer in a radio commercial. After the rules are announced, two names are called out. Those men step forward. Their hands are placed in a mini spreader bar. The collar is recessed, the wrist goes in, then a collar goes over the wrist, and it’s locked in place.
The man tells the locked man that the purchaser will be given the keys when she pays. Otherwise, it’s slave trading, and that gets people put in jail. Ok, I can see that. I see how it adds to the visual appeal. Vickie is going to go crazy when she sees me. I am going to fuck her good tonight. This place has me on edge. I’m not comfortable here. I am borderline freaking out as it is. Yet, I am excited.
I hear guys selling for as low as twenty dollars and as high as a twenty-five hundred dollars. It’s forty-five minutes of stewing and getting annoyed before my name is called. I notice that my bar is heavier. The chain is heavier. The lock is heavier. This sets off an alarm in my head. I am not keen to follow this man.
I am locked in, and I am worried now. Four men come from behind and push me forward and out onto a stage. It’s like a model would use. There is a walkway and the buyers are in the audience. It’s stadium seating to improve the view for everyone. I look around for Vickie and don’t spot her. How does she bid on me if she isn’t here?
My mind goes tactical, exactly as my training taught me to do. I am hyper aware of my surroundings. I am looking for threats, exits, and possible weapons. This is no longer a fun event.
The bidders are in front and to my sides in ordered rows of women. Behind the rows of chairs, to my right, is another raised platform with a giant chair, like a queen, would sit on. That’s where an older woman in black and white polka-dots sits on a chair with her legs over the armrest and a few fingers in her cunt, getting herself off.
She has a purple wizard’s hat on and no shoes. What a bizarre outfit. She looks weird, but she’s also seems to be in charge. Is she a threat or a way out of here?
As soon as I am on stage, a chain comes down, and my arms are hoisted into the air. This is fucking swell. When I am on my tiptoes, two men shred my black underwear, making me basically naked. The belt and straps come off as well. My anger is growing. I AM NAKED! I don’t have much to work with.
I am standing on the balls of my feet. I have a collar around my neck. My hands are chained to a spreader bar. My hands are up in the air. My anger is quickly raising. What the fuck did Vickie sign me up for?
To many, this is a dream come true, a chance to fuck other women. I’ve a decade and then some of that. There is nobody here that interests me in the slightest. Their faceless to me. I only want my Vickie.
I look through the women again; I must have missed Vickie. OH MY GOD! My life is over! My mother’s sister is here. There is also a section of women from work. Two of them are women I hate. They are laughing at me. The others turn red.
I am bursting with anger. I am furious with Vickie. I am embarrassed because of the women from work. The worst is my own mother’s sister. No way the women from work come here. Vickie had to tip them off. Mom’s sister Libby, yeah, I can see that. I ALMOST smirk, she is a freaky woman.
They start the bidding at twenty-five hundred and it quickly zooms past twenty-five grand. What’s the matter with these women? No date is worth that. It dawns on me, it’s not a date. Now I REALLY feel stupid.
I NEED to escape. The first task, free my hands. The whole place goes silent as I scream out in anger. Not just a scream from a minor orgasm. Oh no. This is the type of scream where a lung falls out. A deep hard roar of a scream. Everyone is frozen. My veins are popping, my face and chest are red, and I am breathing in oxygen in massive quantities. Like in gymnastics, I lift my feet, swing them in front of me. I grunt again. My legs then go above me to the vertical, flipping me on my head. This is a horrible position; I ignore the pain and blood falling into my head.
By the way. They talk about ignoring the pain. It’s BULLSHIT. Pain is real and no amount of ignoring it makes it go away. You can concentrate on other things, but it still fucking hurts.
I scream again as my legs hold the chain. I then do a sit-up. As I am doing that, I am bending the thicker bar, making it V-shaped now. I wrap my legs over the bar and then let go. A bunch of people screams as I let go, and they can’t look. When the chain goes taunt, my weight from falling, crashes all on the bar, breaking the chain. I am hyperventilating and screaming as I work to break the bar in two.
Four security guys start tentatively walking towards me. My hands are still restrained, yet they’re cautious. They should be. They don’t have lethal weapons; I choose to tone it down. They have the numbers and the weapons. I take them seriously. Unfortunately for them, I have trained for years in this situation. That’s bad for them.
As one guy lunges at me, the old lady screams, “STOP!”