The Auction

"Do you wish me to put her in her kennel?" he asked

"No, I'll do it, open it up." I took her by the hair, she cried out with pain as I pulled her up and dragged the animal to her kennel. I tossed her in and walked away putting away the flogger, not looking back at the sobbing slut.

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As the night passed, I waited on the right group of slaves to come to auction, occasionally bidding on a particular slut that caught my eye, but not too interested in any of them. One slave's sobs kept running through my mind.

"Are you going to buy one, or are you just yanking my chain here?" asked Jim sipping on Crown on the rocks.

I took a sip of my vodka martini and responded, "there is one that truly caught my eye, but she's not been put on the block yet." I said and rotated my wrist to ice down my drink further.

The sluts on the auction block were put through their paces by the auctioneer, but it lacked the refinement that was implied in the books. I looked at the naked flesh being displayed as it was in many strip clubs, women exposing themselves hoping to catch the eye of a man, and then approaching them seeking their dollars only to move on to the next. Women who surrender title to their bodies have a truly special calling. Many misunderstand the stripper, but I know they seek truly to find one who blows them away; but the men who go to strip joints are not the men who can possibly blow them away. They are the men who go there because they seek a good time, but don't want to put in the effort to cultivate such a slut. Slave girls tend to seek the same, but on the auction block they know that they are playing for keeps, that they have lost title to their bodies and that they will be owned totally. They hope that the man, who comes here from all walks of life, will know how to own them; some are disappointed, but others blossom into full and completely free women who wear the collar and do not even own their own bodies.

"Now for the twelfth block of the night, we bring you the girls of Florida..." started the auctioneer. It caught my attention and Jim noticed so he sat back and relaxed.

"...we have 12 girls here from the sunshine state, you can see them all are tanned and a few have been worked over by perspective masters, so notice how well their bodies accept the whip, or the flogger, or in this case..." he turns the lovely blond over and bends her over, "..the welts of a cane upon this fabulous painslut's body".

He pulled the first girl forward and holding her by the hair displayed her to the buyers both in the room, and to the cameras taking the auction to other parts of the world and to the legal observers. "What is the opening bid for this one; she's a teacher by education, and a slave by need. She's been a part of the online and real life Gor scene for 8 years and seeks her very first Master and to feel the heat of the branding iron upon her flesh; what am I bid?"

Hands flew up and the bidding started at a modest two hundred dollars per month (all terms are for sixty months, but the buyer can pay up front, or monthly). This was the value of an economy car for comparison. The owner would also have to pay property taxes on the slut, depending on the state based on the purchase value. It was considered a luxury item so the annual taxes (though declining) were set at ten percent of the asset value over five year depreciation. The slut was a capital asset after all and thus subject to accounting principles. The bidding ended at three hundred and twenty five dollars, or just under twenty thousand.

As the night continued the tenth girl came up and was displayed. It had come to pass that all the Florida girls were going between fifteen and twenty thousand and I was prepared for the bidding now. I watched her walk up to the center of the auction platform and the auctioneer turned her around to display the red welts on her back and ass. "This slut was well marked by one of you out there, the girl sobbed well and her body shows that she can take a good flogging for those of you who understand the value of the whip on a slave's discipline."

I watched as he started the bidding. I let it go up from two hundred dollars to two twenty five, to two fifty, to two sixty and slowly work its way up towards three hundred. I looked at her, and her eyes found mine. She noticed I was not bidding and had no idea if I had purchased my slave or not. Tears of fear ran down her cheeks. I watched her carefully. She displayed her marks well and she earned every bid as her value went up through three twenty and up to three fifty.

The auctioneer bent signaled with the hand at his side, hip level. She recognized the signal and bent over so her ass was well displayed and caressed by the whip of the man who held her. Her pleasure at being touched so dominantly in front of her potential buyers ignited a run of bids that went up to four hundred dollars. She now was among the top ten most expensive slaves of the night. The bidding slowed and came to a stop at four fifteen.

Few slaves, other than in wealthy auctions went for more than twenty five thousand dollars. You have to realize that you buy the slave; you have to feed her, clothe her, and give her medical care, and all the necessities of life, so the purchase price is held to realistic levels. Slave can too be sent to work, but most owners do not look at them as a source of income, but as a source of pleasure and assistance.

I raised my card up, and I bid four twenty. The auctioneer recognized me and accepted my bid. He asked in rapid succession of the other final bidders had a new bid, and we rode the price up to four fifty. The auctioneer looked at me, took the slut by her short hair and pointed to me; "is this the slut you wish? I am ready, as it is the practice on Gor, to close my fist." I nodded my consent that I knew the value of the bid, had the money to cover her cost and wanted this one slut at my feet.

The auctioneer closed his fist and nodded to me. I rose and said to him; "send the slut here to kneel at my feet, she may as well get used to it." The slaver's assistant came to me with a receipt, took my ID and ran it though the card reader looking for any criminal background and finding none signed the receipt and I did the same. I took my slut by the hair, tilted her head back, and took a deep passionate kiss, drinking her scent into my lungs and her flavor into my body.

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"Nadu!" I said to the nameless slave. She looked at me, and obediently knelt and leaned her body back on her heels. She parted her legs to shoulder width and I tapped her thighs to make sure she was fully open and exposed her heat to any who wished to view the slave I had just purchased.

"Master, may your slave speak?" she asked in a soft whisper, her eyes downcast, looking at my shoes. I let my eyes enjoy the curves of her sultry body. It was true. The things I had read in the books, and talked to others who actually owned slaves, there is an amazing feeling when you know you truly own the flesh of another human being in this way.

"Speak and risk the consequences girl." I said to her but my tone was soft and welcoming.

"Thank you for buying this slut, Master. I will always strive to please Master in every way..." she said. I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger, leaned into her and responded "You better girl: that is why I bought you." I said and sealed the statement with a kiss upon her soft lips and then I licked the salt trail of her tears to take her into my very body.

The slave smiled deeply, a small new tear gathering in the corner of her eye "Will Master name his new slave soon?" she asked. The question was such a deep honest one that it took me back. I was not ready for the question just yet. I remember years ago reading in the bible why God changed people's names. The story of Abram and Sarai come to mind right away. In changing the name of these two biblically historical people who set forth the millions that followed them; God took the pride of ownership in them. God said to the world, these two people whom you knew as Abram and Sarai are no longer the same as they were. These are new people with new roles in life. These are people who will from now own be my children, will do marvelous things, and they will do it as Abraham and Sarah.

Naming a slave is a very important task. Most often the slave is given her own free name, but not always. I pondered the name I would place upon the slave. It would have to be a name meaningful and with great value. It would have to be a name that the slave would understand. It would have to be a name that others would take seriously. Naming a slave is sometimes done days or weeks after a slave is purchased. Till then she may go by the name "slave" or the name "girl" but I did not want this to be the case. Like naming a child this was a difficult task. But unlike the naming of a child with is done by both parents, the naming of a slave is done simply to please the Master.

I knew the slaves real name in her previous life. I had read it in the resume. I was tempted to give her that name because I enjoyed the adventures of a character in an old TV show by that name many years ago. I remembered the name from the resume, the name she had used as a slave during her time required by law to prove she was both serious about surrendering title to her own person, and to prove she was not being coerced in any way to signing such document. It was the name I had engraved on the collar I purchased this afternoon when I decided I would buy this slut.

I looked at her; I tipped her head back by pulling on her hair "I shall name you, sabreen for you have shown your patience in waiting for me to own you girl."

She looked up at me, only a bit puzzled. "Yes Master, sabreen is proud of her new name and well pleased that Master did not make his new slut wait for her name."

"Submission!" I told her, as the bidding on the new slave on the block continued. She knelt with her legs together, her head lowered and her arms stretched towards me. Her wrists were crossed as for binding. I reached into my briefcase and took out a meal ring with a few extra holes and a small bolt that fastened both ends of the engraved ring with a full design all around except where the name and ownership were inscribed.

"Read your collar aloud: Slut!" I said to her, handing her the ring of strong 10 carat gold.

She took it in trembling hands, brought it close to her eyes and read it; "I am sabreen, the property of Tom Sommerfeld of Kansas City." Her eyes welled with tears, as she realized I had planned this since earlier today; I took her hair roughly in my hands, tipped her head forward and commanded her, "Place the collar around your own neck as a symbol of your need to submit to my ownership of you." She did so and I fastened the small bolts in place that would hold her collar forever in place.

"Thank you, Master..." she said among broken word caught up in emotions that I thought I understood, but in reality only a slave can truly understand how it feels to have her Master's steel around her neck for the first time. I took her by the collar, pulled her to me, and I kissed the teary eyes dry and again kissed and licked the salt trails from her delicious face.

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The slut named sabreen was now my owned slave. This fact was made irrefutable by the papers I signed and she signed in the final step of surrendering the title to her person and giving me court approved ownership of the piece of property I decided to call sabreen, the name she had on her resume seemed appropriate and fitting since it means patient, and this girl certainly has been patient.

I turned from the heavy oak desk and walked around the line of Masters and slaves and towards the door leading to the kennel that contained her clothes that would cover her on the trip home this very night.

"Heel, sabreen. Let us begin the rest of your life."

"yes Master!" she said and her step became more lively than I thought possible.

The end of the beginning