A Question of Her Value Ch. 01

"Oh god baby.... That was amazing." I panted, gazing up at him.

"Turn over." He ordered abruptly as he pulled out and rolled me onto my hands and knees, immediately moving behind me and sliding his hard length back into my soaking cunt.

"Oh my god... yessssssssssssssss.... Yeeeeessssssss... take me!" I squealed, accepting every inch of his thick pole back into my gaping pussy.

It was obvious my husband wanted his own release now, and wrapping my hair in his fist he yanked my head back forcefully, and began to piston his throbbing cock as deep as he could using my blonde tresses for leverage. His hips slapping loudly against my firm round arse every time he sheathed his length in my dripping fuck hole.

The pain as he pulled on my blonde mane mingled with the sensation's he was creating in me and I started to squeal with ecstasy. At that precise moment I was simply there for his gratuitous use and the feeling of shameless depravity that filled me almost sent me over the edge.

Our mating was nothing short of animalistic as he hammered his cock into my eager, compliant body, simply using me for his pleasure now.

"Unghh... unghh... unghhh... unhhhhh.... Unhhhhh!" I grunted noisily with every stroke of my husband's manhood into my pink crevice, my body jerking while my pert tits jiggled beneath me.

"Oh, fuck... Amy... oh god... I'm gonna!" Dan slammed his hard meat into me one final time and ejaculated, his prick pulsing as he shot his load deep inside me.

"Shit, shit, shit.... I'm.... gonna..... oh fuck.... I'm gonna cum.... again!"

Feeling him hosing my womb with his seed I came hard for the second time, tensing for a moment then going into a series of uncontrolled spasms as another huge wave of delight washed over me.

"Oh shit... shit.... I'm... I'm cuuummmmiiiinnnnngggggggggggg!" I screamed out loud not caring if the people in the next room or down the hallway heard me.

Totally spent I collapsed face down on the bed with my husband laying on me, both of us gasping for breath as the ecstatic sensations slowly faded.

Eventually I struggled out from under his prostrate form and rolled onto my back next to him as his arm slipped around me, pulling me close against him so the pair of us could cuddle up until we fell asleep.

My alarm went off at five-thirty the next morning and I jumped out of bed, hurriedly showering and dressing, before kissing Dan goodbye and, with a stomach full of butterflies, left him behind in our bed.

Hanif was waiting in reception to collect me when I came down a few minutes after six.

I had asked if I should wear ordinary western clothes or a chador the previous afternoon before he departed and his parting comment had left me concerned but no better informed.

"My dear, clothes will hardly be an issue for you once we reach the slave market!"

Greeting me with a cheery 'good morning' he opened the rear door of his Mercedes for me and then slid in next to me.

The three-hour drive to our destination passed quickly, Hanif treating me perfectly respectfully during the long ride to the souk where I was to be sold. In fact, I found it all somewhat surreal, as I chatted about my job and business matters with the man who would soon be subjecting me to a humiliating slave assessment.

As we drove the urban centre outside the car quickly changed to the less built-up areas of the city before the surrounding countryside finally gave way to desolate scrubland. Looking out of the car window I started to become increasingly apprehensive, thankful that my husband's friend was with me, to ensure I was safe.

The roads also changed, deteriorating from modern tarmac to flattened earth and then into little more than rough tracks. The latter causing the large 4-wheel-drive to throw up a trail of dust behind it as it bounced along.

Finally, I saw what I assumed to be our destination.

A small village appeared in the middle of nowhere and, as we got closer, I was able to identify a number of individual mud and brick buildings with a few tents surrounding a much larger structure. Eventually, pulling into a small central square a few minutes later, we stopped in front of what looked like a large run-down brown painted warehouse.

Stepping out of the car into the early morning desert warmth Hanif immediately ushered me into the building, barely giving me a moment to glance about me.

"The market will not be open to buyers to preview the slaves for sale before two o'clock." He explained to me as I looked around the large empty area we were standing in, "We are early so all of your pre-sale processing can be done before then."

The space had a number of small podiums, each one about four feet across and a couple of feet off the floor, lining the walls. They all had a chain and hook sited around 3 metres above them and I wondered if this was where the women would be displayed.

In the two opposite walls were other doorway's that I assumed led to the rest of the building.

"So, will you be doing it?" I asked nervously, "The processing, I mean."

"No, my dear. I have staff who do that work." He told me, "I will leave during your actual assessment and return afterwards during the afternoon with your husband. You will be dealt with by one of my female assistants, Amira."

My heart rate slowed a little at this news, although I was still petrified about what was going to happen. I had been really worried that my husband's friend would be the one who took care of me and the fact it would be a woman calmed my frayed nerves somewhat.

"I should warn you though, she is very strict and likes to torment all of those beautiful young women that pass through here." he explained casually, "When she was younger, she worked in Europe and was badly treated by the two glamorous daughters of the family she stayed with."

"Wonderful... that makes me feel so much better." I rolled my eyes and answered sarcastically.

"As I said Amira will be tough on you, but the government regulations are very strict." he repeated what he had already told me, "It's best I don't tell you exactly what is involved; frankly, the less you know at this stage, the better."

The statement started me worrying even more.

'What did he not want me to know?'

'Just what was going to happen to me?'

'Why wasn't my husband here to reassure me?'

My stomach tied itself in knots thinking about the endless list of possibilities.

While at the back of my mind that part of me that always seemed to be there flickered with excitement and anticipation, growing more dominant by the minute.

"Right now, I need to deal with some other business." the middle-aged Arab continued almost nonchalantly, "You are welcome to look around the facility but I suggest you don't go out front alone. In fact, make sure you stay in the building or the enclosed courtyard to the rear."

After Hanif had gone, I wandered around the room looking at the podiums and associated machinery. Noting that there was also a large window facing the street, which I hadn't realised was there when I first entered.

The room resembled some sort of engineering workshop, with steel chains hanging down from the ceiling above each of the small platforms and a switch on the wall behind each chain. Curious I pressed one of them and the chain moved upward making me wonder what it might be for.

Interested, I continued to explore, noticing that behind each podium was a sign in Arabic and English.

Reading the poster behind the first chain I saw it said:

Gardener Melissa

LOT NBR: US/22345/34112

NATIONALITY: American

OCCUPATION: Former bank clerk

STATS: 5' 4" 36-25-36

AGE: 25

STATUS: Slave for 3 years

VIRGIN: No

DESCRIPTION: Some Arabic, sings, harem dancer, fluent in French & English

Staring at the platform and the chains dangling down just a few feet in front of the sign I suddenly became fully aware of where I was.

Swallowing hard my heart rate rose as I realised that I was standing in the centre of what was the showroom.

There must have been close to forty podiums and the majority had a notice associated with them, giving the name and personal details of some pathetic woman who would soon be put up for sale on that very spot.

While there were women of almost every nationality being advertised here, I perceived that almost half of those that I looked at as I wandered along the rows were Arabic.

Picking up a chain I examined it. The end of each one was fitted with some sort of catch or clasp that looked as if it was made to attach to something else.

'Surely Hanif wouldn't actually chain me up in this room, would he?'

'This was just an administrative procedure. I wasn't actually here to be sold.'

'I was a civilised western business woman not a slave.'

I wondered how the process would work for me. I wasn't really a slave for sale. My husband would cancel the purchase once all the formalities had been satisfactorily completed.

No, he wouldn't dare humiliate me like this.

'Would he?'

The more I contemplated it the more aroused the concept of being put up for sale made me and I found myself pressing my thighs together as a warm moistness formed at the top of my legs.

Once again, I started to reflect on what the rest of the day would bring and, while I felt myself starting to panic at the possibility of being displayed for anyone to see, I found that I was becoming excited by the faint prospect of it happening.

That was when, glancing up I saw my reflection in the window, with my hands in the air examining the chain. For a moment I could see myself as if I was on display to a procession of prospective buyers.

While the vision horrified me it also sent a shiver of anticipation through my body and I again felt a flush of heat at the junction of my thighs.

'I'm a British citizen.' I told myself reassuringly, 'I'm here for this stupid insurance valuation that's all. By this evening I'll be back at the hotel with Daniel.'

Looking at my reflection again I studied my image. I was casually dressed in jeans and an expensive grey silk blouse just like any other western woman might be.

'No slave girl would be dressed like this!' I smiled to myself, the concept calming me for the moment.'

'A slave girl would probably be wearing next to nothing... or even nothing at all!'

Suddenly I shivered anxiously. Hadn't Hanif warned me that my examination would contain nudity?

'Surely that was to frighten me, to put me off. He wouldn't strip me, would he?'

A strange feeling settled in the pit of my stomach tying it in knots and making me feel nauseous, although it also made me more than a little thrilled at the prospect.

Moving along down the platforms I started to read the rest of the data sheets.

Olawi, Semini : Housewife....

Murphy, Colleen : Accountant....

Markov, Natasha : Invoice clerk....

It was then that I saw something that made me stop dead and gape in complete shock:

Cartwright Amy

LOT NBR: BR/1176/2334

NATIONALITY: British

OCCUPATION: Business executive

STATS: 5' 7" 34-23-34

AGE: 32

STATUS: Enslaved today

VIRGIN: No

DESCRIPTION: Master's degree in business management, fluent in English, untrained

Alarmed I took an involuntary step backwards away from the sign.

'That couldn't be right? Could it?'

'Surely he didn't intend to display me here for everyone to see.'

My brain went into overdrive again, my emotions see-sawing between two extremes of fear and intense erotic expectation.

Surely it was a simple clerical procedure that Hanif would correct as soon as he returned.

That was it. It was just an oversight I told myself.

I studied my pedestal realising that standing on it I would be facing the window and completely visible to pedestrians outside. Being a business woman, I knew that you always put your best inventory in the window, to encourage walk-in traffic.

'Was that how Hanif saw me? As his best merchandise.'

Trying to banish the thought from my mind I found the idea of me as goods for sale returning again, making my pulse rate rise alarmingly and sending a warm flush straight to my groin.

It HAD to be a mistake!

I looked at the door Hanif had gone through and decided I needed to see him NOW, so that he could correct this error as quickly as possible.

Despite the sliver of excitement inside me I was also starting to feel exposed and vulnerable standing alone in the showroom, so making a decision I headed to the door we had originally come through.

I was unable to open it, it was locked.

Quickly I re-crossed the room and opened the door in the opposite wall which led me through into a much smaller area.

Standing in the entrance to what I assumed must be the preparation room I surveyed what was in front of me. There was a sink in the corner and a variety of syringes and other medical instruments laid out on a metal trolley next to it, while against one wall was a desk that had a stack of papers and a large ledger on it.

Affixed to the wall above it was a large sign in Arabic and English.

'Virginity guaranteed', it announced proudly.

What really caught my attention though was the three short black vinyl covered benches in the centre. At the end of each of them were a pair of shiny steel stirrups similar to those found in a gynaecologist's office.

I had seen tables like this before, of course, and had even been given pelvic examinations but the sight of these scattered casually in the room without so much as a curtain or blanket in sight for privacy, left me speechless.

Hanif had continually stressed to me how humiliating the assessment would be but it was almost as if this brightly lit room was designed to be as degrading as possible.

Across on the far wall was yet another door and, deciding to explore further, I pushed it open and went through into what appeared to be another workshop of some kind. The flattened dirt floor was bare and in the middle was a blacksmiths forge with its coals dark and cold.

Alongside the furnace was an anvil and a rack of tools including a number of hammers and several long iron rods.

There were also several crates and, becoming more curious by the second, I took a look wondering what sort of ironwork might be done here.

One box contained metal shackles of various sizes while another was full of the rivets, seemingly for securing them.

Taking one of the larger iron rings I studied it for a moment wondering what it was designed for. The only obvious place it could fit on me was around my neck while the smaller ones seemed sized for either my wrists or my ankles and I tried one on, slipping a pin into the hole.

To my utter astonishment I found that it fitted easily and I rapidly dropped the shackles and pegs back into their boxes.

These were clearly there to chain up the slaves.

Part of me was incredulous that such barbarity still went on in the modern world while deep in my core, another segment, found the idea of being naked and chained unbelievably arousing.

There was another double door in here, with rays of sunlight streaming through the gaps in the wood, and pushing it open I stepped out under vivid blue skies and the growing heat of the desert sun.

However, after being inside the building it was a relief to be out in the fresh air.

The enclosed courtyard I found myself in was filled with a scattering of cheap folding chairs, each one with a small sheaf of paper on it. While at the front of the yard was a large wooden platform, standing about four feet off the ground, with steps leading up to it, it looked just like a stage.

It was rapidly turning into a very hot day, and I picked up one of the brochures fanning myself with it as I sat down to reflect on what I had witnessed.

Out of idle curiosity I looked at the Arabic script on it without any idea of what it said, then turning the page over I found it was printed in English on the reverse side.

WOMEN FOR SALE

ALL NATIONALITIES, ALL PRICE RANGES

PERFECT FOR HOME OR HAREM

The title on the cover page screamed at me, reminding me where I was and why I was there, suddenly making my situation even more real.

Opening it onto the first page I could see it contained a list of women and their associated details;

5.00 PM VARSHAS, RAJEI IN/3357/6112......

5.10 PM ALLANA, MARITA RU/9008/1213......

5.20 PM CARTWRIGHT, AMY BR/1176/2334......

Puzzled I wondered why the time for me had been changed. Hanif had told me my sale would be done last, at 7 pm, because of the retainer he had placed on me.

Perhaps he had amended it and forgotten to tell me.

I sat and stared at the third line on the page, hardly daring to breathe for several minutes, before looking up and studying the platform in front of me.

For the first time I noticed that the stage was covered with a layer of sand and in one corner was coiled a long, black, rope. Except I realised to my horror it wasn't rope, it was a whip!

There was no doubt about it.

This was the auction block where, if the brochure was correct, I was going to be sold at twenty minutes past five that same evening.

Glancing nervously at my diamond Rolex I saw it was almost ten o'clock and I wondered when my processing was going to start. In around seven hours' time I would be standing out here and as yet no one had even spoken to me about what they needed to do.

Standing up I looked at the wooden platform fearfully. Given its height above the seats it was obvious that everyone would get a good look at the merchandise. The thought made me shiver; with nervous apprehension and erotic excitement.

However, rivetted to the spot, what disturbed me more than anything was the dampness I now felt between my legs. The block was horrifying, humiliating, and stimulating, all at the same time.

I was still gazing at the stage, completely mesmerised, when the doors behind me flew open, and an old Arab woman in a chador came out, followed by two huge, bare-chested, black men armed with swords looking like something out of 'Aladdin'.

"Get inside, infidel bitch!" the woman shrieked angrily at me.

Crossing the courtyard, doing as she had ordered, I tried to muster as much dignity as I could.

"There's been a mistake and I need to speak to Hanif immediately." I drew myself up to my full 5' 7", towering over the diminutive old woman who I assumed to be Amira.

The slap across my face took me completely by surprise and left me red cheeked and speechless.

"You will speak when you are spoken to, whore!" Amira spat into my face as the two guards grabbed my arms and literally frog marched me back inside.

"Hanif is not back 'til afternoon," Amira informed me curtly, "Now I am in charge! You will do as I say and you will not be hurt! This is not your country... here you speak when spoken to!"

Stunned into silence I was pushed forward into the blacksmiths workshop and then the preparation room.

Standing in front of her desk I waited as she sat down and poured herself a glass of water. I licked my lips realising how thirsty I was but thought better than to ask her for a drink.

Casually emptying the glass, she looked me up and down and smiled evilly.

"Strip! Strip now, everything off!" her eyes narrowed as she issued her instructions.

"What! In front of...." I looked around at the two colossal figures that stood by the doorway and hesitated.

Amira slowly got up and walked around to stare up into my face.

"When I give you an order, you do it. Immediately. You are not questioning me. Do you understand?" the words were spoken slowly and quietly which added to the venom with which they were said.