"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 01

I stared at her in disbelief. "You want me to strip? Out here?"

"Sure do!" she said, grinning at me. "Right down to the skin. Yer gonna be slave kenneled tonight, and that means I'm marchin' ya' right through the front door of The Big D, slave naked. Come on, git to it. Lest yer' chicken, and ya' just wanna forget about the whole thing."

She smiled, daring me to quit. I pulled off my top first, revealing my bouncing breasts.

"Nice milk duds, girl," she chuckled. "Now let's see the rest. Hurry it up: it's SHOW-TIME! The Families in Need 'r waitin!"

I took off the sandals first, then slid down my shorts and panties with one quick motion.

"May I keep the sandals, at least," I pleaded. "They cost me $750".

"And I'm sure the family in need will appreciate that," Rita said, as she threw all my clothes down the chute.

"Turn around, hands behind your back."

I obeyed, and Rita slapped on a pair of zip tie handcuffs, cinching them behind my back.

"Hey, not so tight!"

Rita laughed.

The next step was a rope, which was already pre-looped. Rita held up the knot in front of my face. "Since y'all gotta know how everythin' works, you'll be pleased as punch I got yer' pal Skeeter to knot this up fer' me. This is his old Boy Scout campin' rope, if you can believe that."

"Seriously?" I said, laughing. "The Boy Scouts? Do they give merit badges for tying up girls?"

"No, but I betcha there's a lot of teenage boys who wish they did! This here is called Honda knot, and they use it for tying lassos," she explained, slowly stretching the loop open. "Betcha' he would have creamed his pants if he knew I was going to use it to lead you bare-ass naked into the Big-D".

Enjoying herself way too much, Rita dropped the knot over my head, then smoothed it out so that my hair was over top of it. Rita smiled at me as she slowly, slowly tightened the knot around my throat.

"Don't look so puked out. Ayn't the gallows, girl".

She gave the rope a tug. "Unless ya' try to run away."

"Lassoed!" she teased, jerkin' me forward. "Let's git' a move on. We gotta long walk, and this little piggie's goin' ta market, ha-ha!"

Rope in one hand, riding crop in the other, Rita led me barefoot across the parking lot. It wasn't dark yet, but it was getting close, and I was grateful that the parking lot cement wasn't quite as cold as it would be in another hour.

"Can't we take the car?"

"You want me to gag you?" Rita said, not even bothering to look back over her shoulder as she jerked the rope around my throat.

The Big D was still some distance away when a security golf cart with two uniformed and armed officers stopped, shining their headlights in our eyes. One was old and fat, and the other was his rookie partner.

It was a standard security golf cart, with a couple of interesting modifications, like The Big D logo on the side, a gun rack with two high powered, scoped rifles, and a couple of coils of rope."

The older, fatter officer crawled out of his cart as they dimmed their lights. He was wearing a brown coat, and his Big D security uniform made him look like a Deputy out of an old western. He put on his cowboy hat and placed his hand on his gun.

"May I help you two?" he said.

"We're fine," Rita said. "I'm taking her to be kenneled for the night."

"You should have parked closer."

"It's a nice night," Rita said. "I wanted some air."

As Rita and the older, fatter officer chatted, his partner used his flashlight to peruse my naked body, starting at my feet, then moving up to my crotch, then my breasts, then finally my face. I instinctively jerked at my wrists, wanting desperately to cover myself, but the cheap plastic zip tie Rita had used held my hands fast.

The rookie cop took his time, leering at every inch of my body.

"Would you mind not shining that in my eyes?" I asked.

"Why shouldn't I? You got yer' high beams on, slave girl," he said, snickering like his comeuppance was the height of wit. I blushed as he laughed, using his flashlight to play the light across my nipples.

"Shut up, slut!" Rita said, pointing her crop at me.

"Turn around, slut," the officer in the cart said. "I want to see yer' ass."

I stared at him.

"Do as he says, slave girl!" Rita barked angrily.

I turned around, and let the grinning rookie on the cart molest my ass with his flashlight.

The fatter officer who had been talking to Rita walked over to me, and roughly spun me around. "She got a SIN number?" he asked.

Rita nodded. "Sure 'nuff."

"Mind if I do a read-back?" he asked.

"Knock yer-self out, Deputy", Rita drawled.

The fat mall cop stuck his grubby fat fingers in my mouth like he had every right to do so. He held up my upper lip with his thumbs and read my SIN number to his partner, who checked it on an app on his phone.

"She's clean. She's graded. A Prime Minus, although she's not a slave yet."

"That's a waste of finnnne pussy!" his partner said, looking my naked body up-and-down.

"I'll say. System says she's registered to be kenneled tonight."

The fat officer leered at me. "Well, maybe we'll see each other later." The fatter officer leered at me again, then strolled back to his golf cart.

Looking at Rita he said. "It's kinda a walk. Do you want me to send a cart for you?"

"Naw, we're good. I wanted the exercise," Rita said.

"Yeah," I said. "I reckon you two can just mosey along."

Frowning, the officer who had been molesting me with his flashlight got out of his security cart and put on his hat. "She's kind of lippy!" he said.

I shrank back as he approached. He appeared to be about 20, all macho, and strode up to me with his thumbs hooked into his belt, like he was walking into a bar at Dodge City, instead of hassling a naked girl with her hands cuffed behind her.

I gasped and tried to pull away as he stuck his hairy paw between my legs. "Lippy, but she sure is wet!" he said, finger fucking me. "You wanna little lovin' slave girl?" he asked, breathing his foul breath into my mouth as I danced on his finger. "Once you get my gun in your holster, you'll know what humpin' is!"

Intervening, Rita bent me over, pushing down on the small of my back and running her hand up until it was on the back of my neck. It was obvious Rita had learned some slave handling tricks from Rosco, or Skeeter, only now it was my turn to do the learning.

My ass caught fire as Rita whipped the crop across his rapidly, three times, like a parent spanking a child. I knew from my slave training it wasn't full force, but it was hard enough to bring tears, and genuine repentance!

"I'm sorry Mistress! I'm sorry Deputy! I'll be good! Really, I will!" I cried out, meaning every word.

"Let's go!" the fat man on the cart said to his partner. "I got to go pee."

The Deputy didn't look happy, but he returned to his cart. I stared at my feet as they drove away, grateful to be saved by the old, fat man's prostate.

When they were out of earshot an angry Rita sliced my ass with the crop again.

"Owww! What was that for?"

"Have you done gone slave stupid, girl? You don't never talk to a freeman like that, 'pecially the law! They're all off duty cops here at The Big D. Yer' lucky you didn't get fucked and enslaved, right here in Aisle 63!"

"Sorry," I said. "And I'm not stupid. I'm just... transitioning."

"Well, ya' better TRAN-ZIT-ION a shit-ton faster, while you still got skin on yer ass."

Rita poked me in the back with the crop, prodding me forward.

"Why are they out this far anyway?" I asked. "There are no cars here."

"That's why they patrol the whole lot, dummy," Rita explained, obviously annoyed. "They're lookin' fer escapees."

"I wouldn't get very far, running naked across this brightly lit lot," I said sadly.

"No, ya sure wouldn't," Rita agreed. "So don't go slave stupid, and try nuttin' DUMB."

"Those high-powered rifles look mean. They don't actually use those, do they?"

"If they got to. They don't go for kill shots, though. You can't sell dead girls."

"Well, that's reassuring. What's the rope for?

"Lassoing. They'll chase you down in the cart, and lasso you, just like a horse."

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope. They even have a slave girl rodeo every year. Come back in the summer, and I'll sign you up," she chuckled.

I wasn't sure if she was pulling my leg, but the image of getting lassoed by a man in a golf cart as I ran naked through a parking lot hardly seemed any more ridiculous than having my clothes given away to charity. The air was growing chillier, and as we took the long, long walk across the parking lot, I found myself envying Rita's blue gingham dress and lined jacket. Her cowgirl boots were very Texas, and appropriate for a visit to what amounted to a livestock market.

Reaching behind me, I could feel the four fresh welts on my ass. I was glad I wasn't being graded today, as that certainly wouldn't help my value! Trudging on across the cold concrete, trying to avoid the pebbles and garbage, my legs were starting to feel like icicles, but there was another sensation as well.

I knew I was excited, but I was scared too, and it wasn't until the rookie put his hands between my legs that I realized just how hot and wet I was. I wanted desperately to clean myself up, but I didn't dare ask. The last thing I wanted was for my sister to wipe me down with some old, oily rag out of her purse, and discover how slave hot I really was.

It wasn't sunset yet, but the blue light of the BIG D Slave Market blinked on-and-off in an animated sequence, timed with the neon logo of a pink, neon naked slave girl running from a blue neon cowboy on horseback.

The girl raced with the cowboy's lasso in the air...

The lasso fell...

The rope tightened around the running girl's neck as she pulled her hands to her throat.

The crude 3 frame animation endlessly repeated, with the slave girl being captured every time. The crude animation reminded me of the rope around my own throat, and I found myself both transfixed by and overwhelmed with empathy for the endlessly running slave girl.

I was so engrossed by the vulgar animation growing ever larger in my field of vision that I didn't even notice the large mud puddle that Rita stepped over.

Rita laughed as I splashed into it. "Dirty little piggy!" she scolded. "Don't worry, they'll scrub you down before they spray you."

"Spray me?" I asked, looking down unhappily at my two muddy feet.

"Delouse you, dummy. We don't want you bringing home no crotch crickets."

I had no pubic hair, but I strongly suspected that wouldn't matter. I may have been a multimillionaire 10 minutes ago, but I was a naked slave girl now, and slave girls had to be deloused.

The tension built as I grew nearer to The Big D. Each time my dirty bare feet touched the cool concrete, wiggled at the pressure of an unwelcome stone, or crossed a parking lot line, my purse was a bit farther away, and I drew ever closer to being "merchandise" at the The Big D Slave Market.

As we grew closer, there were more security drive bys, although apparently word had gotten out as to who we were, as no one stopped to bother us.

"Security don't care about pussy going IN," Rita snickered. Maybe not, but that didn't stop them from shining their flashlight on my naked body as they slowly drove by.

As we drew closer, a beaten-up, rusted truck with a man and his son, slowed down to ogle my nakedness. The boy, wearing his Lone Star College t-shirt, had the better look, but it was his father, wearing his cowboy hat, who let out the wolf whistle.

"Can we feel her up in the auction pens, Pa?" I heard the boy's voice say as the truck slowly sailed down the aisle. Whether from the cold air or the thought of the boy bidding on my naked body, a chill ran down my spine.

Too soon, the enormous neon Big D sign, large enough to see from the I-45, was blinking over my head, making me feel very tiny indeed. From the expressway, Big D Slave Market seemed like just another box store, lost in a sea of casual dining restaurants and chain hotels. But I had been dressed then, in Rita's truck, with a wallet filled with cash and platinum cards and luggage stuffed with clothes.

Now my perspective was radically different. I hadn't even been able to see the pink girl being lassoed from the expressway, but now I realized that I was much, much smaller than her. Standing slave naked in front of the large glass doors I felt like a tiny ant, and had to turn my head to a full 90 degrees, right and left, to see the ends of the building.

"This place is.. is... ginormous! No... humongous!" I said, struggling for an adjective.

Rita laughed. "Humongous? It's not THAT much bigger than the mall we were at. Guess things look big when your slave naked. This place used to be a real livestock market, that sold cows and pigs and farm supplies, but then Jake figured out there was bigger margin selling slave pussy. He really made a go of it, and now he built a big old slave mall, which is that new extension on the side. Jessie is in the employee stock program, and they pay a pretty sweet dividend every year."

"I bet," I said. "How many girls can they hold in this place, anyway?"

"Plenty," Rita said. "But there's always room for one more!" she added, ending the conversation by jerking my rope leash forward.

"Why are we going this way?" I asked. "The front entrance is right here."

Rita didn't answer, but just kept my rope taught. I remembered one of my slave mantras: "Slave Girls Should Are Not Permitted Curiosity". I didn't realize the reason for the detour until I saw the sign above the chute ahead of me.

LIVESTOCK ENTRANCE

I hesitated as I realized that I was actually going to enter The Big D by walking up a dark livestock chute, but Rita was having none of it. "In ya' go, little piggy!" she said, slapping my bare bottom hard with her open palm. It was a stinging spank, particularly over the fresh welts on my ass.

Rita slapped my ass harder than she needed to, but I told myself she was just trying to help me get into character, and make me feel like "slave pussy." It was working, and the feeling both thrilled and terrified me. But I also knew that deep-down, Rita was enjoying the role reversal. I had gotten a little drunk last night, and was more than a little obnoxious with Rosco and Skeeter. Now, it was Rita's turn, and she was relishing her absolute power over her bratty, more successful little sister.

The slats on the chute floor were wooden, the bars on the side an industrial green metal. The incline was slight, and I only got a few inches before I stopped at another green gate.

Rita, standing to my left, was looking around. She finally located the RING BUZZER FOR SERVICE sign and pressed the button.

A loud, obnoxious buzzer went off.

"Looks like you got the wrong answer," I joked, trying to break the tension.

Rita said nothing, but smiled at me in a peculiar way. It wasn't amusement; more like contempt, or scorn. I had gotten the look a lot at dinner last night, when I was talking about my houses and cars, or when I was flirting with Rosco or Skeeter.

Now here it was again. Her "Oh, you think you're so smart!" smile, maybe mixed in with a little "You'll get yours, someday!" vengefulness. I felt a twinge of apprehension as I began to wonder just how pissed off my sister was.

I looked at the metal green door in front of me. I tried to look around the green bars to see beyond the door, but couldn't see anything. The incline was very slight, but I gripped one of the horizontal slats on the floor with my toes, as much out of nervousness as for support.

"Wow, this thing looks scary. It's so... industrial. Why are we waiting here, anyway? Why don't we just use the front door?"

Rita, playing on her phone, didn't bother to look up. "Because yer' a dirty little piggy, and you clomped in the mud."

I looked down at my feet, which looked like two brown boots. "Geez, they're filthy."

Rita didn't look at me as she scrolled her phone. "Course they are. Rosco says all slave sluts are sows. He says that's why y'all use so much fann-cee pur-fume," she said, pronouncing "fancy perfume" with as much sarcasm as her obvious disinterest in our conversation could muster.

"I'll have you know, it's a scent, not a perfume, and I bought it in Paris."

Rita, playing on her phone, didn't respond.

"It cost me 400 euros," I said.

"Enjoy it while ya' can, slave girl," she said, still not making eye contact. Her voice wasn't angry. Her conversational tone portrayed the sort of casual disgust one might have when talking about road kill or a termite infestation.

"I'm not a slave girl," I protested.

Rita, scrolling and swiping, didn't bother to answer me. Or, to be more accurate, her not bothering to answer me was her answer.

Rita's calm, and her ability to discuss the real estate aspects of the property, and extoll the "sweet" dividend, was familiar to me. To her, the massive building in front of us was simply another big-box store, the place her husband worked at. It was the same cocky arrogance I had felt last night when I had called The Big D a "shithole", much to Rosco's annoyance. But the world was a very different place when I was wearing my imported Dolce and Gabbana dress and carrying my Valentino purse stuffed with no limit Platinum cards. Now I was a naked slave girl, and I was going to pay the price for my dismissive insolence. Shivering naked in front of the green doors, I was already learning to respect the awesome power of The Big D Slave Market.

I could feel my heart beating, and my breath was coming in short gasps. I looked at the metal gate in front of me, my apprehension growing. "Maybe you should press that buzzer thing-y again."

No response.

"Maybe they didn't hear."

"They heard fine, slave girl. This here's the livestock entrance, not the con-see-urge desk at the Ritz."

The reference to the Ritz reminded me of my cover story. Rita had told Rosco and Skeeter that I was checking into the Ritz Carlton. Yes, the Ritz was where a girl like me belonged. At the Ritz I would be spoiled and pampered, like a proper lady should be. The last time I had been in town I had gotten the penthouse suite. Skeeter's eyes bugged out at the view!

But truth is, despite my mounting fear, I was glad that I was at The Big D. This was a fantasy come true. I squeezed my thighs together, relishing the pleasure between my legs. Despite my growing anxiety about what lay beyond the green metal door, and my annoyance at Rita's calculated indifference and disdain for my questions, my real fear was missing out on this chance.

For a few hours, at least, I could pretend to be a real slave girl.

I smiled. Skeeter was probably picturing me standing on the balcony of my Penthouse, a master of the universe, sipping my drink as I overlooked the twinkling city lights of Dallas. If he only knew!

Despite the dropping temperature, I felt a rivulet of sweat running down my forehead. With my hands cinched behind my back, I couldn't wipe my eyes. Rita was the picture of nonchalance as she played on her phone. Clearly there was only one of us that was scared.

"Do you know what's on the other side of this gate?" I asked.

Rita, ignoring me, continued playing on her phone.

"Hello? I'm talking to you."

She looked up at me, clearly annoyed. "I'm checking in on Facebook, okay? Did you want me to take a pitcher' of ya'll, and post it?"

"No!" I shouted, jerking against my zip cuffs as I instinctively tried to cover myself.

Rita laughed as she menaced me by waving her phone in the air. Then she walked backwards and took a picture of the neon sign of the perpetually captured cowgirl, then a selfie of herself. She smiled as she posted them.

I stared at her in annoyed disbelief. I was about to be kenneled in a slave market, and she was treating it like a trip to Six Flags.