"Any Chance?" Auction - Epilogue

"Collar position," Rebecca said.

I pulled my hair back, and lowered my head, exposing my long, slender neck. I squeezed my thighs, nearly coming as she SNAPPED the collar around my throat, locking it into place.

Cupping my chin, Rebecca looked directly into her eyes.

"Welcome to The Big D," she said, grinning as she echoed my taunt.

Skeeter said something to the guy in the yellow coveralls, and he nodded. I watched unhappily as my dress, shoes, bag, ID, and JP Morgan Reserve card disappeared through the swinging doors.

"Okay, Miss Powers wants a movie of all you girls together," Rebecca said. I want you to pile up into that circle in the center of the cameras and go at it. Come on, you know the drill!"

Rebecca spanked my ass hard, ordering me to "join the others, sweetie. Into the dogpile."

I crawled into the pile of lesbian look-a-like slave girls, and began licking, caressing, and moaning. As I pleasured them, they pleasured me. Repositioning myself, I managed to work my tongue into the pussy of the girl who had seemed to be my twin, and returning the favor, she began to finger me, even as I used my hands to caress one Annie's breasts and finger fuck another Annie below me.

I took a moment to relish the sensation of being just another naked slave girl in a sea of naked slave girls, a drop of water in an ocean of slave pussy, performing for the amusement of fully clothed free people. It was strangely liberating, to mix in with the others, and to submerge your identity into a role where you always knew exactly what was expected of you.

"Dog pile describes it well," Rebecca said. "They're going at it like animals in a barnyard."

"On our school field trip, one kid let the boars into the sow pen. The pigs went after it pretty much like this bunch, while everybody laughed."

Everybody laughed now, too, as we grunted and squealed like sows in the barnyard.

I knew that at Lord Kensington's estate, I'd be kenneled with the female dogs before the hunt. This time of year, we'd undoubtably pile together to stay warm. Listening to dogs snore all night wouldn't be pleasant, but at least I'd stay warm. On the brighter side, the hunting dogs relied on smell, and they'd be less likely to tear me to shreds if I smelled like another dog.

I groaned with pleasure as a skillful finger worked my button. Girls know how to tease and please without rushing you to orgasm. All of us took our time. If it wasn't for the fully dressed people mocking us, the shamefully accurate animal comparisons, and the camera's filming us like we were in cheap Mexican sex service, it might actually have been fun.

I lost myself in carnal bliss, until the sound of spurs hitting the cement signaled the arrival of Jake. I shuddered; I didn't want my new business partner to see me this way!

No, I was safe. If I played along, he'd never know. Could I really fool him? Could I really pass for a Legend under Jake's discerning gaze?

Ignoring the pile of naked writing slave girls, Jake turned to Skeeter. "We got the Prime Pussy your aunt bought packaged up and in a Southwest shipping truck on my loading dock. Somebody said we were waiting because we were one Legend short," Jake said. "You gotta fix?"

"Already fixed," Skeeter said, noting the pile of naked lesbian slave meat with a tilt of his head.

The slave monger in the coveralls returned down another aisle, driving a forklift with crates labeled SOUTHWEST SHIPPING.

My ride was here.

"Good. Is this the cargo we're shipping?" Jake asked.

"Yes, Sir," Skeeter replied. "They're collared, scanned in, and ready to roll."

Jake walked over and took a closer look at the dog pile of naked Pleasure Sluts, writhing together as we caressed, rubbed, and licked each other's naked bodies, moving as one.

"That's really something," Jake said, clearly impressed. "They really do look like your aunt. Except that one on the end, with her ass in the air. Her doodle bug brand looks a little faded. Merle's working today, if we got time, you might want to stick a bit in her mouth and take her over to the forge, and get her brand freshened up."

"We got time," Rebecca said, glancing at her watch. "I'll take her over."

"I think she heard ya, Jake," Skeeter chuckled. "She's clenching her butt cheeks."

My butt cheeks did indeed clench, and soon began to quiver, much to the amusement of the men staring at my perfectly toned, perfect body.

Jake didn't realize who I was. I was just another hot piece of slave ass. Norton said nothing. I was saving him a refund.

I wondered where my clothes were. It didn't matter. I was naked, collared and scanned into the system, ready to be shipped. I was now one of the girls.

The relentlessly teasing tongue between my legs had driven me the brink, but it was the realization that I was just another naked bitch in the dogpile, and Jakes casual observation that my doodle bug brand should be "freshened", drove me over the edge.

I couldn't object, of course. What was there to discuss? A few minutes before Jake had wanted me to be his business partner. Now, he ordered my butt branded in the same tone he used to tell the guy in the coveralls to take out the trash.

I didn't want to be branded... sort of. I knew the pain would be excruciating, particularly atop my old brand. Having Scooter's childish doodle burned into my ass a second time was unspeakably humiliating. But the knowledge that it was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, and that I was helpless to resist, was incredibly hot--one of the hidden highs of being a slave.

I wondered if burning a temporary atop a temporary brand would make the brand permanent. Probably, but no matter. It was not the sort of question a slave girl could ask, and I would find out in a few months.

Which one of the perverts was going to get me? What would they do to me? Again, it wasn't my place to ask. I would find out soon enough.

I could feel them all staring up between my legs. My slave-gasm began, washing over me in waves, as the men behind me laughed at my disgrace.

"She's coming."

"No dignity at all."

"Her pussy is jigging like jello."

"She's winking her asshole at us."

"Yeah. The little slut is itching for the branding iron."

I didn't want to shame myself in front of them, but I couldn't stop. Since the first time since Rita had freed me, I found myself between swept away by the multifaceted layers of an epic slave-gasm. I had no idea what awaited me, but I knew the next three months were going to be very interesting, indeed.