Allison's Descent into Slavery Pt. 02

"Young lady, you got a serious hitch in your get-along with that behavior in the public display section in a slave market while wearing a leather choker. That is not something that free women do," Ed chuckled, while Pixie Girl just stood there blushing.

Natasha had a horrified look on her face looking around to see if anyone else noticed finally resting her eyes on me.

Turning towards Natasha he said, "Your daughter has a calling for the collar. I can tell. Just like I can tell that you've worn a collar, Ma'am. May I be of assistance finding you a good buyer for her?"

"Honey, go test Sandy's slave heat and try to make her cum. Play nice, like you would want to be treated. Remember, next week that will be you strung up naked on display," directed Natasha, pointing towards Sandy.

Pixie Girl's eyes lit up when she saw her former babysitter's predicament, the ever ebullient teen quickly hurrying over to Sandy. Fascinated, I watched Pixie Girl's small hands manipulating Sandy's prodigious breasts. Pixie Girl started gently massaging one breast with both hands, and then the other, while Sandy once again blushed red from her face to her chest from the touch of the teen that she used to babysit. Soon Pixie Girl was in a trance as her hands were gently massaging Sandy's nipples as her former baby-sitter became flushed with excitement as she moaned in arousal, her large nipples as hard as diamonds. Pixie Girl's efforts, coupled with Sandy's response, soon drew a crowd of onlookers.

Then some other slave traders examined me as if I was really for sale, even checking my teeth again, and of course testing my cunt for moisture, inputting information on their iPads all while I listened in on Ed's conversation with Natasha.

"Almost three months ago my husband and I obtained a Preventative Enslavement Emergency Protective Order (EPO) for Becky the week before her eighteenth birthday to shield her from her slave tendencies that we observed during her senior year of high school," explained Natasha as she watched her daughter work over Sandy's breasts.

"A wise move getting that EPO," responded Ed. "Most parents fail to recognize the danger until it is too late."

"We are moving forward with a five year Protective Enslavement. Senior year she became president of her school book club, turning it into a slave romance novel reading circle for girls. Since we obtained the EPO her classmates voted her the most likely to wear a collar this year in the yearbook. The truly scary part was when she proudly announced it at the dinner table like it was a real honor. She is an "A" student in school, taking AP classes, a concert quality pianist, but became totally immersed in unrealistic slave fantasies," explained Natasha.

"How has she behaved since she turned eighteen?" asked Ed.

"She received a 100% on her slave yoga final last week after practicing naked for hours every night in her room. When she and her friend Anne turned eighteen they started practicing slave yoga naked in Becky's room juicing each other's collars. Now I have to replace the carpet in her room due to the noxious pussy juice odors and stains from her slave yoga training. Once that class was over I took away her training collar and threw it in the trash when I caught her wearing it to bed two days ago. The collar stunk to high heaven from all the juicing after only a little over two months of wear. She was even sleeping nude with the collar on our dog's bed in her walk-in closet while the dog was on her bed when I caught her," exclaimed Natasha.

I continued to listen to their conversation as yet another slave trader checked my honey pot for moisture. It had remained a leaking sieve the entire time I was on display. Stepping behind me he started using my juices to lubricate my back door, working one and then two fingers up past my sphincter.

"Not an anal virgin," he chuckled in my ear as I blushed in embarrassment thinking of the times Calum used my ass while I played his little slave girl wearing my training collar after practicing my Slave Yoga in front of him at night.

"I found an entry in her diary where Becky described a plan to come to the Big D to voluntarily indenture shortly after graduating from high school with another of her friends from the book club. She was accepted into Yale, Stanford and MIT. The foolish girl was going to throw it all away chasing a ridiculous slave girl fantasy," sighed Natasha.

"Self-Enslavement Syndrome is extremely rare, but every time I see it in a young woman it shocks me. I can sense her smoldering slave heat, her natural submissiveness, but I did not pick up on her condition," exclaimed Ed.

"Now that Becky is technically a slave while the EPO remains in place she started masturbating in public because she knows as a slave this behavior is permissible. She demonstrates some discretion and is good at concealing her actions but as you can see she does not have any restraint when the mood catches her," sighed Natasha.

"I have been observing your daughter. Becky is a beautiful, ebullient, graceful and captivating young woman who demonstrates a fun, mischievous attitude towards life. From what I can see, and I have been doing this over thirty years, she has a tight little body and more than enough slave heat to score in the Prime range next week," appraised Ed. "Do not worry about the Self-Enslavement Syndrome hurting her grade, if anything it could lead to a higher score."

"Thank you, I will take that as a compliment under the circumstances," smiled Natasha graciously, with a relieved look on her face.

"What happened to her friend?" inquired Ed.

"Amber ended up a slave in a harem in Dubai. Her grandfather had the brilliant idea of getting her an Any Chance auction and when trying to cancel the sale on his smartphone accidently hit the 'sell' button," said Natasha, shaking her head in disgust.

"All sales are final," commented Ed.

"Right. The poor girl's mother was fit to be tied when she found out. Right now she and her husband are planning a trip to Dubai to try and get her daughter returned. There is a pending lawsuit against the Big D and the app developer," sighed Natasha.

Pixie Girl now had two fingers from her left hand inside Sandy's pussy massaging her vagina while methodically manipulating her clit with the other hand. Poor Sandy was withering on the edge of orgasm moaning in need. It was clear that Pixie Girl was in no hurry to push Sandy over the edge into a frenzy.

"She is acting like a kid in a candy store here," grinned Ed.

"Standing in the display room brings back memories of being sold right here at the Big D over twenty years ago. I recall the utter terror of not knowing my fate, being pawed by strangers while strung up on display all the while the sexual exhilaration of this place fueling my slave heat," sighed Natasha, trying to change the topic.

"You graded in the Prime range I suspect," grinned Ed.

"Prime Minus, and I proudly wear the Big D brand on my left cheek letting the world know that I am a Sandy Foot Girl," exclaimed Natasha smugly.

"I thought so," smiled Ed.

"My husband knows that all he has to do to ignite my slave heat is to lightly trace his fingertips along my brands. Gets me going every time," smiled Natasha.

"Many men like fondling the brands on their slaves," chuckled Ed.

"You never forget the distinctive smell and feel of the sand between your toes and on your body on Broadway when performing your block routine. The sound of the gavel coming down as the auctioneer yells SOLD! To this day I remember the orgasm I had, laying on my back squirting in the sand like it was just yesterday," groaned Natasha.

"She's about to blow," chuckled Ed, nodding in Sandy's direction.

Sure enough, Pixie Girl had performed her own version of the Midas touch, pushing her former babysitter over the edge into a back arching, body shuddering, massive explosion of orgasmic bliss. Sandy even squirted a few dewdrops on Pixie Girl's hands.

Pixie Girl had a big, look at what I did, grin on her face as she skipped back over to Ed and Natasha. For a moment there I thought she was going to offer Ed a taste of Sandy's juices from her fingers. Nixing that idea, Natasha promptly handed Pixie Girl yet another Palmpalm antibacterial alcohol wipe to clean her hands while talking to Ed.

"I was one of the lucky ones avoiding the horrors of being used as a pleasure slut slave. My owners purchased me as a consort for their son, sending me to Broadstone for training. We eventually fell in love getting married. My life could not have turned out better. The training I received at Broadstone shaped me into a stronger, more confident woman," smiled Natasha.

"Mom, are you and Daddy planning on sending me to Broadstone this summer?" inquired Pixie Girl, with a childlike smile. "I think I would like that."

"Honey, we haven't decided yet. Remember we go to court in two weeks, after your slave grading next week, to discuss your Protective Enslavement with the Judge. Dr. Nikki Sheldon will have her recommendation for the judge by then," answered Natasha, sounding like she was talking to a child, not a young woman that was accepted into MIT, Stanford and Yale.

"Well, it looks like you do not need my assistance then. Out of curiosity, when would you plan on matching her with her future master?" Asked Ed.

"Probably after she graduates from college when she is more mature and better understands the ramifications of being paired with her future husband. We will likely have her participating in Broadstone's summer concubine program while attending college," answered Natasha as she noticed me following the conversation as yet another slave trader checked my oil.

One professional trader told another that I was up for sale at the 2:00 p.m. auction as they examined me. I thought, "Boy they really do a good job making it seem real for you when you have the Deluxe Reality grading package," as my pussy tingled, gushing more cunt cream on his fingers as he explored my pussy.

Natasha walked up to me, looking me in the eye asking, "Were you listening in on my conversation?"

I nodded yes, figuring honesty was my best approach. Especially, strung up naked wearing a collar as I was while on display.

"Good, I really hope you learned something. Based on my experience, if you are lucky you may end up at Broadstone. It saved my life. If given the opportunity, take it, you will become part of an elite sisterhood that takes care of their own. As a slave you need to make new dreams and make the best of the opportunities you are presented with. Good luck and stay strong," she kindly advised with a knowing look in her eyes as she gently ran her fingers through my hair.

Natasha took Pixie Girl's hand and steered her out of the display area. Pixie Girl turned and waved goodbye to me as her mother led her away.

"Mom, what's a Spinner? I overheard a man tell his friend I was a Spinner, born to wear a collar. What did he mean?" I overheard Pixie Girl ask, as they walked away.

Listening to Natasha gave me more to contemplate while hanging there. I tried to imagine the utter terror that Natasha felt not knowing her fate, strung up on display while being pawed for hours by strangers. The sexual exhilaration of this place was fueling my slave heat just as it had hers back then. I wondered what this Broadstone School was and what kind of parent obtained a Protective Enslavement order for a child. After observing Pixie Girl's behavior I could see that there was some logic to the concept.

When you are strung up on display for two hours you have plenty of time to reflect on your life. Natasha's comment that Broadstone shaped her into a stronger, more confident woman struck a chord with me. My problem as a dancer was a lack of confidence, not talent. I simply choked in front of large audiences or during auditions while excelling during practice or while dancing on my own.

Whenever I accompanied Calum to large social engagements I always clung to his arm, not wanting to be left to my own devices. The truth was that these events intimidated me, I dreaded being on my own engaging total strangers in conversation. Early in our relationship we became separated at one of these events and Amelia rescued me. In hindsight she always seems to find me when I become separated from Colum, involving me in the group conversation, always making sure I am actively engaged in the event. How was she always so poised, ready for any situation that might arise? I longed to be a strong, confident woman like Amelia.

My limited understanding of slave schools was that they trained slaves, especially pleasure sluts, to be docile and compliant, relying on their master for any and all guidance. Pleasure sluts did not make decisions, they existed to entertain their masters immediately obeying every request, regardless of how small, trivial, painful or disgusting. So how did a school designed to instill obedience and subservience also make Natasha strong and confident? And how does this elite sisterhood take care of their own if they are slaves? Could the techniques applied at Broadstone be used to help me with my confidence and make me a better woman, fiancée and wife?

So much for deep thoughts. Being strung up on display like a slave for sale had me fondly reliving my Slave Yoga slave girl for a night homework assignment. One evening I had dinner all laid out on the table when Calum arrived home. I greeted Calum, or should I say my Master, using my best slave speak, wearing a sexy black leather choker featuring grommet detailing, O-ring accents, and a long front black leather tassels, on my knees lewdly displaying my freshly groomed sopping wet pussy, informing Master that dinner was served while this slave was available to meet any of my Master's immediate needs.

Master was hungry so we proceeded with the meal but with a twist as my master sat his little slave upon his lap and proceeded to feed both of us. He would cut the steak into bite size pieces feeding himself using a fork. When he fed me he used his fingers making this slave lick her Master's fingers clean. Picking up a piece of broccoli or a mushroom with his fingers he would place the food into my open mouth. My Master fed his slave what he wanted, when he wanted, throughout the entire meal. It was simply one of the most erotic experiences of my life leading to some of our best sex ever.

With our appetites sated I stood to clear the table when Master noticed that my pussy juice had leaked all over his thigh, soaking through his pants. That led to a bare fanny spanking inflaming my slave heat even further. What followed was a passionate session of slave sex in our bed. This slave was honored with many orgasms, a deposit of my Master's sperm in this slave's slave cunt and another deposit in this slave's slave hole during which I actually had two anal orgasms.

Now I fantasized what life would be like if I was sold at auction to Calum as his slave while yet another slave trader tweaked my nipples and checked my pussy for slave heat. I almost came yet again wishing he would ring my doorbell.

Breaking me from my thoughts, Mandy released me when my time was up, securing my hands behind my back in handcuffs and attaching a leash to my collar. She took me into a corridor, sprayed my throat with the Devox antidote and gave me some water to help get my voice back.

"Wow! That was one hell of display of out of control slave heat in there. Great job of selling yourself as a horny pleasure slut," excitedly exclaimed Mandy. "Slowly drink the whole bottle of water please. It will help with the Devox."

When I finished the water Mandy looked at her iPad.

"Good news, you scored a Prime rating, great job, you should be so proud of yourself and you are my first Prime," she breathlessly cooed.

"Thank you for your help, Mistress," I gushed in a raspy voice while smiling happily. It was hard trying to talk as the Devox antidote restored my ability to speak once again.

Mandy had been wonderful guiding me through my grading while bringing out the horny pleasure slut in slave heat in me. I don't know what it is about this place but, I was still a leaking sieve needing sexual relief even after cumming twice while on display. Then it dawned on me; I had seven orgasms so far today and I still craved more. How was that possible?

After re-checking my slave grade Mandy secured the bite gag back in my mouth. Mandy was running her fingers gently through my hair when a sad expression came over her face. I wondered what could be wrong.

"Now for the bad news. You have been repo'd, your Any Chance auction has been revoked and you are scheduled for auction this afternoon where you will be sold for five years. This is for real; it is not part of the Deluxe Reality package. I did not want to tell you until your grading was complete to avoid upsetting you during your performance. Bobby here will take you to a room where our management will explain what happened and how they are proceeding. I truly hope a good kind master buys you," Mandy advised as she handed my leash to the slave handler who led me down a corridor.

"I figured you were too fine a piece of slave pussy to be going home today. The only way a Prime pleasure slut like you leaves the Big D is collared, cuffed, gagged and in a poodle cage," laughed Bobby as led me back into the bowels of the Big D slave market.

I was in shock. Where was Amelia and how had this happened? Was I really going to be sold? I was quickly enveloped with dread. The fear of actually being sold as a slave terrified me. Or was this part of the Deluxe Reality Package and the Any Chance auction promotion? The uncertainty heightened my arousal with my cunt tingling on overdrive now as I actively wondered what was truly wrong with me.

Addendum.

Slave Yoga classes started out as an exercise program targeted for female slaves, a way to make them more agile, centered, and compliant while igniting their slave heat. Pleasure sluts performing slave yoga were often touching themselves, often to climax, as they practiced their moves; otherwise known as block moves. Slaves preparing for the auction block practiced these sequences for hours making their block routine look graceful and effortless.

Free women and slave pleasure sluts alike regularly used slave yoga as a form of sexual foreplay targeting their master, mistress, husband, fiancé or boyfriends with their moves. These women performed their routines for the benefit of their partners while also revving up their own arousal, often referred to as slave heat. Women used slave yoga in this manner well into their fifties.

Slave yoga, besides being excellent exercise, mentally conditions women to be slaves. It incorporates yoga's mental exercises by substituting traditional yoga mantras with slave mantras that augmented the repetition exercises used to break in female slaves. Performed in the nude slave yoga transforms the drills into conditioned responses where slaves practice their slavery using imagery, visualizing sexually serving their master or mistress. In this way slave yoga re-programs the woman's mind so that she internalizes her slavery, comes to see her slavery as natural, identifying as a slave and not her former free self.

Slave Yoga was developed and even taught to girls in high schools and colleges across the nation. In the state of Texas all women were required to complete a one hundred twenty-hour slave yoga physical education class senior year as a high school graduation requirement. Students could enroll in high school slave yoga upon becoming eighteen in Texas. The class had a minimum of ninety hours of practical exercise, thirty hours of home study and a course final consisting of passing an individualized auction block routine.