Purchased but Not Owned Ch. 01

Okay, so I wrote this story once and uploaded it onto here and I deleted it so that I could rewrite it! I got a lot of feedback, changed a few things and REALLY changed the storyline. So, I hope this new and improved version comes across much better and slower- I really worked hard on it!

And there is the same disclaimer on this story as on the original one... I'm NOT a slave, nor have I ever been to an auction of this sort, so this story is all based on my idea of what it would be like.

Enjoy :)

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Shaking, my body sweating and chest heaving as I feel the chains tug at my wrists and restrict my ankles, tears welling up in my eyes as I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes down. There is a lot of yelling as the eight of us walk out onto the stage- nothing is intelligible but there are catcalls and whistles. I can hear the girl to my right whimpering and I can see her body shaking even more than mine. Right before we turn to stand, she trips, losing her balance and instinctively I reach out, grabbing her arm and reaching a hand around her back. I make sure she stands upright and then pull my hands away quickly, knowing I will be punished for the prohibited contact as I close my eyes tightly. Hands grip my arms, pulling me away from the others as I hear the clinking of the chains being moved around and unclipped. As I am pulled away from the others, I hear a desperate whisper of thanks from the girl before I am out of range of the others and out in front of them. I am turned, and before I can even take in a deep breath, I hear the whistle of the whip and almost instantaneously feel the sting of it digging into my back. I bite my lip, knowing that screams will only egg the audience on, but I can hear cries for harder hits, for more whips, and then I feel another crack across my back, this one making me sob quietly.

The punishment goes on for a few more minutes and then I am unceremoniously shoved back into line, the chains locked back together before the biding begins. The auctioneer goes down the line, reading out a description of each girl that was written by her previous Owner. When he gets to mine he hesitates, glancing over at me once before taking a deep, visible breath:

This piece of trash deserves a Master who will watch its every move and make sure that it steps not a toe out of line. It has greatly disappointed Me, and this sale is a punishment that I hope it will never forget. To Whoever buys this trash- make sure to take the garbage with You and keep it. I do not want to hear of this cumslut getting any sort of pleasure out of any relationship it has, if You want to call it a relationship. Treat it like the trash it is.

I know he is in the crowd somewhere, watching to see how I react to the obvious dig at my abilities as a submissive. A few tears roll slowly down my cheek as I lift my eyes, scanning the crowd with a look that I hope is hard and uncaring, and then I drop my eyes, trying to stand up straighter.

The auctioneer starts the bids a bit lower than the rest, which my previous Owner apparently requested. Men are jumping on the bids as they are very low, but as they start to rise the men drop off and bid less and less. Finally there are only a few men left bidding, but I keep my eyes down, staring hard at the ground as the tears come faster, trying and failing to keep my shoulders from shaking with the silent sobs.

Suddenly, a deep voice from somewhere out in the crowd calls out a number two times that of any of the current bids. Everything is silent- even the auctioneer doesn't know what to say. I force my eyes to stay down, knowing that if this is who I will be living with, I do not want to start off on the wrong foot by looking at him. My stomach turns and I feel as if I will throw up at any second as the auctioneer finalizes the sale, moving on to the next woman as I am lead off the stage.

Backstage, I am lead to a door, where a woman leads me towards a small room. She is a warm, older woman, dressed in simple clothes and when we make eye contact she gives me a sad smile, running a few fingers along my cheek when we stop in the hallway.

"Sweetie, it's going to be okay- we have to make you pretty and fresh for your new Owner, so let's get you cleaned up," she says gently, her soft Southern accent making the tears well up again as I swallow hard, nodding quickly. The last girl is just being led out of the small room and the stark contrast between my dirty, shivering, broken body and her clean, soft curves is so obvious that I have to look away, my eyes to the ground.

The woman settles me into a bath and I can't help but sigh softly, not having had a bath without eyes watching my every move in well over 6 months, my body relaxing as I settle back, leaning my head against the edge of the tub and closing my eyes. I can hear the woman start to protest, but then she stops and I hear a deep sigh. Opening my eyes, I see her looking at me with pity plain on her face, along with what seems to be empathy.

"Hun, you enjoy yourself... who knows when the next bath you'll get will be, and while I'm not supposed to let you sit here, you can for a minute while I go find some more soap," she says, running a hand over my hair. Then she turns quickly, heading towards the door. "Oh, honey? Please, don't go anywhere... I will probably be punished if you disappear because I was being a softie, okay?" She gives me a long look, her eyes full of understanding but also a bit of fear. I nod, swallowing hard as I sit up a bit.

"Yes, of course- thank you, really... thank you so much. I'll be here waiting for the soap," I say, nodding my head and giving her a small smile, the first one I've meant in a long time.

She comes back a few minutes later carrying a new bottle of soap, an obvious look of relief on her face as she sees me.

"Oh, so glad you're still here, hun... I've got the soap, so why don't you stand up and let me clean you up. May hurt a bit... but I want to make sure you're all clean," she says, helping me stand up and turn.

The cleaning isn't fun- there's pain and tears, but she is as gentle as she could possibly be with me and I try not to make too much of a fuss, thanking her profusely as she dries me so gently with a soft towel. Her eyes well up as she helps me out of the bath and finishes drying me off, toweling my hair a bit as well. She takes my face in her hands, looking me right in the eyes.

"Sweetie, I want you to remember me- my name is Amanda Swells and I am a submissive for the auctioneer. If you ever get out of this lifestyle and need help, I want you to come back here and find me, okay?" She says softly, cradling my jaw. I nod mutely, pressing my lips together tightly to stop myself from sobbing right then and there. She leans in, planting a soft kiss right on my forehead and then a knock at the door brings us both back to reality.

She lets in a woman who is holding a small bag. The woman hands the bag to her, keeping her eyes down.

"This bag is from the man who purchased this slave- he said to make sure she receives it and uses what is inside before he sees her," the woman says quietly, glancing over at me with an emotion that I cannot pin point. Amanda thanks her and bids her farewell, closing the door behind her and turning to me, handing me the bag without a word.

"Does... does this usually happen?" I ask, my voice a whispered beg for help as I take the bag from her carefully, but she doesn't answer, simply shaking her head. I open up the bag and gasp, my eyes going wide as I pull out clothes. My mouth goes dry as I pull out a pair of stretchy yoga pants that would fit many different sized women, and work out tank top with a built in bra. My mouth hangs open as I just stare at the clothes, my hands shaking as I also pull out a pair of white flip flops and a brush, my wide eyes moving to Amanda's face, which is a mirror of the shock I am feeling.

Amanda recovers first, shaking her head a bit and giving my shoulder a gentle pat.

"Get dressed, sweetie. I need to get you outside to meet this gentleman who paid so much for you," she says, giving me a gentle smile. I quickly pull on the tank top, wincing and biting my lip to hold back a scream as the material brushes against the welts and open sores on my back. I do the same with the pants, pulling them on quickly, and then I slip my feet into the flip flops, wondering if the clothes will disappear if I take too long to put them on. I pick up the brush, but Amanda quickly takes it from me, turning me and putting me down on a small chair in the corner. "This man is obviously different... let me brush out your hair and get you as pretty as we can before we take you out there."

I haven't had anyone brush my hair in so long that my hands actually shake in my lap as I sit quietly, my eyes closing as I relax back against the chair.

All too soon, Amanda pulls me up and without a word leads me out of the room, grabbing the bag and putting the brush inside it. She hands me the bag, giving me a gentle, apologetic smile as she puts the handcuffs back around my wrists, making them loose so they don't further irritate my already raw wrists. We head back outside and right before we round the corner, I look over at her, wanting to say thank you.

"I know, sweetie... a lot of the girls who come through here don't get enough love. I'm just glad I could give you at least a little bit before I send you off, and I hope I never see you here again," she says, leaning over to give my cheek a gentle kiss and then leading me around the corner.

Keeping my eyes down I follow Amanda around the corner, feeling the shackles heavy around my wrists, tears in my eyes. I can see a large figure standing over by the street, a small car parked nearby and I resist the urge to look up and get a better view of him, knowing this is the man who paid so much for me. Amanda hands the small lead rope that is attached to the shackles over, turning back to me. I glance at her and I receive a gentle, hopeful smile back before she is gone, out of my life forever.

As he steps closer, I instinctively gasp, flinching away as large hands move into my vision. I close my eyes tightly, my chest rising and falling quickly as I have no idea what to expect, but nothing happens. When I open my eyes, it seems as if he is frozen, unsure of himself and I can't help myself- lifting my eyes slowly, I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes.

"Please, don't be scared... I don't want to hurt you," he says, his dark, dark eyes so deep as he looks back at me, his chiseled jawline and dark, short hair catching my attention. He doesn't seem upset, so I keep my eyes on his, biting my lip nervously. "Can I take your shackles off?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle, like he is talking to a scared, caged animal. I swallow, confused that he is actually asking my permission.

"Um... I... yes, I would appreciate that," I say softly, suddenly feeling shy and very vulnerable as a blush creeps into my cheeks and I drop my eyes again while he works my shackles off, the key clicking and then letting the shackles fall off. I can't help myself- I let out an audible sigh of relief. But before I can move, his large hands engulf my wrists, gently massaging. I whimper, wincing as I let out a hiss of pain, pulling my wrists away from his hands.

As soon as I pull away I panic, my eyes going wide as I open my mouth, not even knowing what to say, terrified he'll be mad that I pulled away. I lift my gaze to his face, my panic growing by the second as I pull in a deep breath, tears well up in my eyes.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry... it hurt and I just... I'm so sorry..." I trail off, my voice hoarse with worry and panic as my breathing picks up. He opens the passenger door, almost picking me up in his hurry to get me into the car, my breakdown already starting as the tears roll down my cheeks. I settle into the seat, pulling my knees up to my chest and pressing my forehead against them, wrapping my arms around my legs tightly, my breathing coming fast and quick. I see him walk quickly around to the driver's side door, opening it and getting in.

"Please, PLEASE relax... I am not mad at you- just RELAX," he says, his eyes a bit panicked as he lifts his hands in the air, almost in a pleading manner as my breakdown continues, my hands shaking so badly that I can't keep them together. "Please, take a deep breath, something... you're scaring me! What can I do- how do I help you calm down?" He sounds desperate, but far away, like I am underwater and hearing him talking to me from the surface. He moves closer, putting his legs between the seats as I tremble, tucked as closely into the corner of the passenger seat as I can get. He grabs me, making my eyes snap open in pure panic as I struggle a bit, unsure of any of this, but he pulls me closer, right onto his lap. "Stop. Stop this right now... you are SAFE with me, I promise. I will not hurt you or even touch you again without your consent, but I need you to relax, please..." He runs a hand over my hair repeatedly, holding me in his lap as my terror and panic start to dissipate, my breathing slowing down as I melt against him, burying my face in his wide and comforting chest. "Shhhhhh, that's it, just relax sweetheart," he says, actually rocking a bit, holding me tighter, his hand staying on my hair for a minute.

Lifting myself up a bit once I've calmed down I take a deep breath, blushing brightly as I look at my lap.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper softly, and I feel his fingers on my chin, lifting my head to look at him.

"There is nothing to be sorry for... we've barely known each other a few minutes," he says, his eyes gentle and his touch soft. "I know you panicked because you pulled away from me, but I promise, I'm not like other men you've met. If you'll just relax, I can take you back to my place and we can talk about things, okay?" I nod, swallowing hard, my stomach in knots as I shift back to the passenger seat with a deep breath, giving him a small smile.

The drive is quiet- I look out the window, watching as the weather sours and the clouds start to roll in, my mind elsewhere as I remember all the rainy days at the Mansion and what rain meant when I was living in that hell hole. I can feel him glance over at me every so often, but I don't look back, still completely unsure about everything.

We finally arrive at what appears to be a very normal, suburban house. The lawn, the flowerbeds, the well groomed trees outside... I'm now thoroughly confused and I glance over at him. He laughs softly, giving me a smile and turning in his seat so he is facing me.

"Please, please don't be scared... you're very beautiful, and you've obviously been through a lot, most of which is probably horrible. I don't want you to feel obligated... don't feel obligated to do anything. There's no reason for you to- what I paid for you today, it was just a freedom price... don't think that just because I've paid money that I'm expecting anything at all from you." His eyes are too dark, almost menacing, but I don't feel scared. That anger is obviously not pointed at me and I nod, my eyes watching him carefully.

"Thank you," I say quietly, still not comfortable talking so freely. He nods, telling me to wait where I am as he gets out of the car, walking around to open my door for me and motioning for me to follow him. I hop out and follow him up the walkway and inside.

There isn't much in the way of decoration or interest inside. The living room is fitted with a long, black leather couch, a smaller, tan loveseat, a coffee table that has a few sports magazines laying on it, and a large TV on top of a plain, black entertainment center that has a DVD player and sound system behind glass doors. The kitchen is in the same wide open room, a bar with three stools separating the kitchen area from the living room. There are dark cabinets with a smooth, black countertops and stainless steel appliances that offset the light wood flooring which runs through the whole part of the house I can see. There are a set of stairs off to the left of the doorway that lead both up and down.

"You seem to like what you see..." he says softly, and I blush, realizing that the entire time I've been looking around, he has been watching me. "Would you like a drink, sweetie? Are you hungry?" My stomach growls loudly at the prospect of real food in my stomach and I blush, knowing he heard it. "Okay, how does some chicken stir fry sound? And any drink you'd prefer? I've got a few different kinds of wine, soda, beer, water?" He glances over at me and smiles patiently, putting down the food that he had started getting together and walking over to me slowly. I'm still standing by the door, a blush bright on my face and the bag he gave me still clutched tightly in my hand. He takes the bag from me, motioning with his hand to follow him as he heads to the couch, leaving plenty of space for me to sit and giving the cushion a pat.

"I never asked your name," he says softly, ducking his head just a bit to catch my eye with a gentle smile. "Your eyes are beautiful, please don't hide them from me," he adds softly, his gaze making me instinctively lift my head a bit higher.

"My name is Jaycee... what's yours?" I ask softly, giving him a little smile at his comment about my eyes.

"I'm Declan... it's nice to meet you, Jaycee," he answers, a little, crooked smirk on his face and I can't help but giggle a bit at the circumstances. He breaks out in a big grin at my laugh, leaning forward a bit and then hesitating and dropping his hand to his lap. "That's a girl... just relax- I promise I won't hurt you. Maybe wine isn't a good idea... I want you to trust me. How about a can of soda?" I follow him into the kitchen, setting down the bag and tugging at my shirt, hissing as it brushes wrong on my back, making me grit my teeth as I pause, grabbing the edge of the bar with a soft little groan.

When I open my eyes he is right in front of me, his hands out as if ready to steady me as he looks at me worriedly.

"Jaycee, are you okay? All the craziness... I was so nervous about meeting you... I didn't even think about what might have happened up on stage. Are you hurt? So help me God, if somebody hurt you backstage I will see to it that they are personally taken care of..." his voice is growling, a possessiveness there that I've never heard before as I wobble onto a bar stool, my legs shaky as I pant from the pain, whimpering softly every time I move. I shake my head, trying to catch my breath as I glance over at him.

"I... I made a mistake on stage and I got what I deserved," I say softly, laying my cheek against the cool countertop of the bar and closing my eyes. I listen to him walk away and open and close a drawer or a cabinet, the sound making me nervous as I open my eyes wide, sitting up a bit.

"Baby, I need to get your shirt off. I can see blood stains..." His voice is quiet, almost deadly, and I suddenly feeling weak as I let out a soft sigh, my eyes on his face until I see the glint of metal in his hand. I glance over at his hand and my eyes go wide as I let out a scream, adrenaline suddenly pumping through my veins. I gasp and pant, practically falling off the chair as I cry out, stumbling to the living room, my eyes wide and panicked.

"No- NO! Get the hell away from me with those! Don't, please, please don't..." My mind flashes back and forth, from a past memory, mixing feelings with the present as I can't even think straight. I see a flash of his worried face and then a flash of an awful, sneering grin, the metal flashing in the low light as my mind reels. I can hear him begging me to calm down, but all I can think about is the pain, both from my back and from that memory. I start to sob, crumbling into a heap on the ground, begging and crying before I bury my face in my hands, my sobs shaking my entire body.