Allison's Descent into Slavery Pt. 01

(This story arc takes place in an alternative reality where legal slavery exists in the United States as depicted in the stories by Joe Doe, Carl Bradford, Gentlemanmariner and a number of others. Joe graciously allowed me to use the Big D slave market for this story so long as I avoided killing or maiming any of his characters which I somehow managed to avoid along with not burning down the place. I also want to thank Carl for editing much of my work, which greatly improved the final product while also allowing me to incorporate some of his characters, particularly Dr. Nicola Sheldon, and institutions in my stories.

If the legal slavery aspect of this bothers you, please skip it. All persons enslaved, involved in slavery operations, or described in explicit sex scenes are aged 18 years or older. This is my first attempt at posting a story here at Literotica. Feedback in the form of comments is greatly appreciated.)

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Congress passed legislation over thirty years ago designed to reduce the student loan delinquency rate by requiring that each borrower agree to a body attachment for a period of involuntary indenture as collateral. There were a number of factors that actuaries used when calculating the period of indenture to guarantee that the outstanding loan would be paid. One was inclusion of a no-international clause prohibiting sale or transportation outside the United States, which rendered the person less valuable, in turn leading to a longer period of indenture. Some countries did not recognize terms limiting the period of indenture. For example mine has a five-year period of indenture without a slave grade and if I was sold internationally to, say, Japan or Saudi Arabia, where all enslavements are for life, my five-year indenture would become a lifetime of slavery.

Another significant factor is one's slave grade; the better the grade for young women like me the shorter the period of indenture to repay the same amount, and that is why I find myself here today. The slave grade also for some reason influenced the interest rate one paid on the loan. As a college student, I did not have a slave grade and needed one to consolidate my two outstanding student loans into one loan at a lower interest rate, which was why I needed a Prime slave grade.

Arriving at the Big D Slave Market first thing in the morning, my future mother-in-law, Amelia Bedford, pulled into the parking lot in the area farthest from the entrance. She pulled a bag from the backseat containing a slave collar and turned to me.

"Well, are you ready?" Amelia asked. "I have the power of attorney here which we signed yesterday and the two notarized copies. Once you take off your clothes I will put on the collar, walk around the car and pull you out and zip tie your hands behind your back."

She could sense my apprehension as I started removing my clothing with a concerned look on my face. When I was nude she put the collar around my neck. After Amelia had the collar in place, she took my head in her hands, turning me towards her so that we were looking each other in the eye.

"Honey, do not worry about those stories where free women go into the Big D for a slave grading and come out a slave. That will not happen to you. I promised your mother before she passed that I would look out for you and make sure you were safe. You do trust me, right?" asked Amelia.

I nodded in the affirmative, smiling at her while still feeling trepidation concerning my fast approaching public nudity when I would exit the car to walk across the parking lot for my slave grading. Yikes, it was really happening. I was actually doing this.

"I am going to act a certain way, bring out my inner dominatrix a little while we are in there and make you do things or tease you in a way that may make you uncomfortable. It will help you get that Prime grade you covet," advised Amelia with a serious look on her face. Her face transitioned into a fun smile, giggling, "I even wore my black leather skirt and three inch heals as part of my costume for my role."

Amelia leaned forward planting a big kiss on my forehead, reassuring me that it would be ok, released me and exited the car; walking to my door she pulled it open.

"Get out of the car, slave," she said in a joking manner. When I stood up, in a very serious tone she ordered, "Back hands, slave;" when I complied, she zip-tied my hands together behind my back.

Then she pulled a stick gag out of the bag and directed me to open my mouth, securing it in my jaws giving me the slave grin of legend. Next came a leash which she attached to my collar. Grabbing the folder with all of the paperwork, she then picked up a riding crop and locked the car. Amelia swatted me so hard on my ass with the riding crop that it felt like it left a mark. The blow also made my pussy tingle for some reason, confusing me.

She put the crop under my chin, pushing it up while telling me, "Stand up straight, hold your head high and stick your tits out. You are a magnificent filly; your dancing has left you with a muscular yet feminine physique that includes a perfect ab crack and sexy thigh gap. You look like you are 5'7" and 110 lbs. and you have the most exquisitely sculpted ass with those firm cheeks. I bet you could crack a walnut if I stuck one between your cheeks and you flexed. You have beautiful wavy red hair and vivid deep blue eyes with a smattering of freckles all over your body that is really cute. You would sell for top dollar here."

Moving the riding crop from my chin running it down my neck she circled my breasts and rubbed my nipples, making them stand out while saying, "You have firm C cup breasts shaped like champagne glasses with nice big erect nipples, at least they are erect now." She chuckled, while rubbing them with the riding crop.

Now my pussy was really tingling and starting to get wet. Amelia ran the riding crop down my body, in between my breasts down my ab crack over my firm abdomen to my mons and then over my nicely trimmed pubic hair continuing her narrative, "And a neat little landing strip demonstrating that you are a natural redhead."

Amelia ran the riding crop even lower and proceeded to rub my clit, finishing on my wet pussy lips. My soon to be mother-in-law is rubbing my labia with a riding crop as I stood naked, cuffed, collared and gagged in front of her in a very public parking lot. I moaned as I felt my now needy vagina dripping.

"You are already dripping slave hot, let's go get your Prime rating, and you are so ready for this. Be proud of yourself—you look every inch a horny pleasure slut," she laughed, while examining the riding crop, which clearly held evidence of my arousal on it.

God, I was so turned on and I had not even gotten across the parking lot and inside the Big D Slave Market. What was my future mother-in-law doing to me? Stepping towards the main entrance, she pulled me along, chatting as she went.

"Today you will be the most beautiful woman in the Big D Slave Market and remember they only handle prime pussy on their main auction block. You have been practicing your slave yoga for months and I am confident that you will excel with your dancing background. Calum told me you would do great after describing the hot nude block routine you do when you play little slave girl for him," she smirked seeing my blush.

I could not believe that my fiancé had described in great detail my slave girl auction block routine to his mother in which I performed slave yoga positions incorporating my own original ballet moves, and during which I begged him to buy me and force me to perform a wide variety of perverse sexual acts. We had the best sex when I played his little slave girl wearing his collar with all my inhibitions released. He was still in the doghouse for leaving on a business trip, relegating to his mother the job of taking me to my slave grading which I needed to consolidate my student loan payments. Now he may never get out of the doghouse for that revelation.

Growing up I fell in love with ballet as a young girl; the beauty of the disciplined moves that allowed me to become one with the music when I danced. I had joined the Joffrey Ballet School Trainee program in New York City after my sophomore year in high school. After three years at Joffrey, I had two years completed towards a Bachelor of Fine Arts while also completing my high school requirements. Then my father had a heart attack and passed away, forcing me to leave the expensive New York school.

With Joffrey no longer an option I transferred into the top ranked general dance program in my home state of Texas, located at the University of Texas, Austin, three years ago. It was there that I met Calum Bedford, then starting his second year of law school. I went from a school with less than two hundred students to UT with a student population of over fifty thousand. It was my first day on campus during student registration and I was hopelessly lost. Demonstrating that chivalry was not dead he recognized my distress and spent the morning helping me navigate the campus, leading to a date later that evening. Now, almost three years later, he had proposed and I said yes.

As we continued through the parking lot Amelia advised, "I prepaid for three days of kenneling for you just in case," causing me to stop walking. She turned around and said, "It is simply a safety precaution in case you need to stay the night. I do not want them to try and sell you over an unpaid kenneling fee and then have to explain to Calum how I lost you."

Pulling on the leash, "Say I get in an accident and do not get back before closing or they have a surge of inventory that takes priority over your slave grading, you cannot leave until your grading is complete."

Walking through the parking lot Amelia counseled me, "Remember, you follow every one of my instructions in the reception area, regardless of how humiliating and embarrassing. You can blush, you can cry, but you do not hesitate, if you do I will use the riding crop on you to get you moving." Turning towards me looking me in the eye, "Do you understand me? It will help your grade."

I nodded in agreement. My pussy and nipples were really tingling now as I speculated what nasty surprise Amelia had planned for me. As we continued towards the entrance, Amelia noticed that I still had my engagement ring on.

"Give me your engagement ring; you cannot take any jewelry in there," she demanded, stopping and holding out her hand.

I reluctantly took it off, turned around with my hands cuffed, and handed it to her and she put it on her ring finger next to her wedding band advising, "I will hold it here for you for safekeeping until I can return it to you."

Amelia held her right hand on my cheek and tearing up she said, "I am thrilled that you are going to be my daughter-in-law. You make Calum so happy and I can tell that you really love him. The two of us will shed tears of anguish and joy together between now and your wedding. I want you to know that no matter what struggles you have, and there are always challenges getting through a wedding, I really truly love you."

Then composing herself she turned and walked me into the front entrance of the Big D Slave Market. An attractive woman in her forties with a kind smile on her face held the door open for us. She was accompanied by a captivatingly beautiful teenager with mischievous clear blue eyes, just a little over five feet, with a tight little body sporting a pixie cut to her blonde hair. Both were stylishly dressed in skirts that came down to mid-thigh while Pixie Girl sported a simple black leather choker around her neck that was a quarter of an inch wide. It struck me as an odd accessory to wear to a slave market.

The four of us walked into the reception area with a great big "Welcome" sign hanging over it. There was a long counter with five clerks conducting business with a VIP express line on the far right. What instantly caught my attention was the row of yellow three-foot high bollards that prevented vehicles from getting too close to the counters.

I could not believe my eyes! There were six slave naked sluts on their knees backed up to the poles and grinding off on them. Some had their hands cuffed behind their backs while others had the use of their hands to balance. There was a small crowd of bystanders walking amongst the girls commenting on their performance. One grunting busty blonde slut creamed all over the bollard at the end closest to the door we had just walked through to the applause of a small group of bystanders.

"Oh! My! God! Mom! That's Sandy Holman, she used to baby sit me when I was younger," squealed the Pixie Girl, pointing at the attractive well-endowed blonde woman.

Poor Sandy Holman's eyes snapped open, a horrified look on her face, she blushed red from her face to her rather ample chest when she heard her name yelled across the room by Pixie Girl. Sandy scrambled away from the post getting to her feet with a woman that appeared to be her mother holding her leash.

Sandy was a classic green eyed blonde, tall, bordering on six feet, statuesque beauty with magnificent, oversized, firm breasts sporting large erect nipples. The contrast in body types struck me as Pixie Girl's eyes were around nipple level when standing in front of the naked Sandy.

"Calm down Becky. You are eighteen now. Please act your age," sighed Pixie Girl's exasperated mother while turning towards the woman holding Sandy's leash.

"Hi Martha, I would have thought Sandy would have been graded four years ago. Is this a regrading?" asked Pixie Girl's mother, as poor Sandy's blush deepened.

"This is Sandy's first grading. She graduated from MIT with honors and did not need a slave grade for student loans through the MIT financial aid office. Now, to consolidate those student loans, get a better interest rate and shorten the period of possible indenture she needs a good slave grade. So here we are. I really need to get Sandy checked in for her grading. We can catch up at the alumni mixer this weekend," grinned Martha as she took her daughter to the check-in counter.

"Good luck, Sandy," squeaked Pixie Girl, waving to the older woman being led away by her mother on a leash naked, collared, cuffed and gagged like a hot pleasure slut slave for sale.

Amelia led me to the post just vacated by the statuesque blonde, still glistening from its prior occupant. That used bollard looked like the filthiest one in the room with the most stains on it.

"Local superstition holds that if you want a Prime grade at the Big D you gotta paint one of the pussy posts, and the dirtier, filthier, and most recently used the more good luck you get. This one looks like the luckiest pussy post in the building," she snickered.

"Get down on your knees and back your juicy cunt up to that post and start rubbing it until you cum all over it. I want to see you squirt on it right on the spot with all of the paint worn off," directed Amelia, giving my ass a playful whack with the riding crop.

Blushing in embarrassment with my dripping cunt tingling, not believing I was actually doing this in a public place in front of an audience, I lowered myself to my knees and backed up to the warm wet concrete post. Putting my face on the dirty floor in order to get the right angle and leverage I started rubbing.

"Gross! That slut is rubbing her pussy on the dirty post that still has Sandy's pussy juice all over it," exclaimed Pixie Girl pointing at me.

"Whack," the crop struck the ground right in front of my face!

"Focus, pick up the pace, the next one will be on your ass," cajoled Amelia.

I started humping the post with a passion, quickly creaming on the bollard to my surprise. I had not realized just how aroused I had become since stripping in the car. The Big D seemed infectious, the atmosphere brought every woman's inner slave heat out into the open.

"You're not done yet, keep going," Amelia commanded, whacking my right buttock with the crop causing me to hurry up both the speed and pressure of my rubbing.

"Are you going to make me do that?" whined Pixie Girl, pointing at me while I ground against the slick bollard.

"Just picture yourself next week right where that slut is," responded her mother, Natasha.

I could hear the chorus of groans and moans from the girls behind me painting their posts accompanied by an occasional crack of an encouraging whip and then one of them would cream her post, garnering applause from the crowd. I was closing in on my second orgasm as Amelia ran the crop over my body as she encouraged me to blow on the pussy post.

"You're almost there, let yourself go, squirt on the post, you skanky pleasure slut slave," Amelia giggled, triggering my second climax.

Now I was sweating, panting out of breath, my face in my own wet spot on the floor with my pussy glued to the slick pole. Kneeling, Amelia pulled my hair out of my face, grabbed my chin and urged, "One more; third time's the charm slave slut, you ain't squirted yet," and whacked my ass with the riding crop.

"Mom, that slut is hogging the lucky pussy post, she already creamed twice on it. I want my turn," I heard a girl whine as I started up again.

I cannot believe this is happening I thought as I once again started painting the pussy post with my juices. God, I was so aroused, girls groaning on their posts behind me, people walking by commenting on what a sweaty skank I was.

"How much longer is your skanky slut going to be? My daughter wants that lucky pussy post," her mom asked Amelia.

"What a nympho, she already came twice and she's still going." Another male commentator chimed in, "Like a little pink Energizer pussy," as he chuckled at his own joke.

The humiliation was turning me on; I could feel the tingle building up from my nipples to my anus to my pussy until I was on the verge of my next climax. 'Whack,' Amelia struck me hard with the crop right on my little winking rosebud, sending a shock wave through my body that triggered my most intense orgasm ever as she yelled, "Cum for me now." I moaned loudly as I squirted profuse amounts of cunt cream all over the pussy post to the amusement of the crowd.

"I captured a video of that slut squirting on that pussy post on my phone. Mom will never believe this," I heard one young man with a Boston accent tell his father.

"Son, there are certain things best not shared with your mother, and this is one of them," the father with the same Yankee accent replied in a worried tone as they walked away.

"That will be you next week squirting on this very pussy post. I do not care how long it takes," advised Natasha.

"What if I can't squirt like her?" asked Pixie Girl, looking worried.

"I have a crop just like that one at home. Would you like to practice when we get home?" smirked Natasha as Pixie Girl blushed.

"See mom, that is the luckiest pussy post here. I want to paint the squirter pussy post for good luck before my grading," exclaimed the Whiny Girl.

I was now lying face down in a puddle of my own fluids, my pussy sliding down against the pussy post, unable to move as I tried to collect myself. I looked up at the Whiny Girl who was a drop-dead gorgeous athletic brunette with emerald green eyes and winked at her and she winked right back with a playful smile.

"I know you are a squirter, honey. Just go with it. You regularly squirt when you practice slave yoga naked in your room at night. When you go to school this fall I have to replace the carpet due to all the nasty stains and odors from all your pussy juice," advised Natasha, while rolling her eyes at her daughter.

"I used Febreze. It's not just me. Annie also squirts when we practice slave yoga together in my room. We can't help it; it just happens every time we practice together," winced Pixie Girl. "At least we both got A's on our slave yoga final exam this year."