"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 05

Blackness. A buzzing in my head. Laughter. Voices.

I awoke to the sound of a champaign bottle POPPING open. I was lying on the dirty linoleum floor of Rosco's shabby office. In front of me, was the emblem of my humiliation, the totem of power, the branded bug doodle on Skeeter's cowboy boots.

My head was buzzing. I could feel the tramlines on my bottom, and the burn in my whipped asshole. I was still slave naked, and still covered in coarse, dark sand. I had survived the humbling ordeal of the auction block, not that it had improved my situation. That's not what slave auctions were for.

Skeeter was sitting on the couch, next to his proud, beaming parents. Some time had passed, because he had changed out of his "fancy" auctioneer clothes, and was wearing plain jeans and a Big D branded T-shirt. The transformation from my auctioneer to college student was as complete as the transformation from Superman back into Clark Kent.

In look, manner, and speech, Skeeter was a kid again. I struggled to reconcile what had happened to me to what I was seeing. Could this snotty nosed adolescent, who looked like he should be cleaning the swimming pool at one of my houses, have really whip cracked my ass off the auction block?

He had. Skeeter was on the chair behind me. Without even thinking, I craned my neck over and began licking the sand off the tips of his boots, washing them with my tongue.

A bit of the champaign spilled onto my hair as the laughing Rosco filled Skeeter's glass.

"That is one shit ton of money, boy. Congratulations for leading the most successful auction in The Big D's history."

"Golly, do I get the plaque? In the trophy case?" Skeeter said, sounding once again like the little boy who had won the team batting championship.

"No, you get TWO plaques," Rosco said. "One for best overall auction. A second one for getting a record price on this month's new Miss Sandy Foot, this little boot scrubber here."

I felt a rush of slave girl pride wash over me, and a wave of pleasure in my pussy. I wasn't just another Pleasure Slut! I was Miss Sandy Foot! I was THE COVER GIRL.

What's better, I had broken a record! I knew Elizabeth, disdainful as she was, was a delightful shade of green.

I pictured myself lunching at Ralph Lauren's in Chicago. "I think it's wonderful that you and Alfred are getting married, Elizabeth. It's good that he learned to settle, after I turned him down."

"You never told me you dated."

"We didn't DATE, silly, but not for want of his trying. But don't feel bad about being his second choice. Remember, I'm the hottest girl in Chicago, or London, or anywhere."

"I am so proud of you!" Rita said, accidentally kicking me in the side of the head as she leaned over to give her beloved son a kiss. "I knew you could do it, if you tried."

Rita's voice became concerned. "Will he still get the record plaque, if I turn down the bid?"

"I don't know," Rosco said. "Nobody has ever turned down a bid like that. Frankly, at that price, it would be crazy not to sell her."

"I'm not selling my sister, Rosco," Rita said flatly.

"I'm not telling you to," Rosco said. "Although, legally, she ayn't really your sister no more. When old Skeeter slammed that gavel down, she became just another Pleasure Slut. And it would be a pity not to let Skeeter get his plaque."

"What do you think, Skeeter?" Rita asked.

There was a pause, as Skeeter looked down at the pathetic slave girl licking the sand off his boots. "The plaque sure would be nice, but gosh, I'd hate to lose Anna-Annie," he said. "We should keep her."

I took his boot tip in my mouth, overcome with love for my powerful master. Yes, he had humiliated me on the block, and whipped my skanky ass, but that's what I ordered him to do. He had done his job, and treated me like a piece of slave meat. But in his heart, he was still my adorable little nephew, Skeeter.

"You should let the bid sit overnight", Rosco said. "At least make it look like you're considering it."

"Fine. I'll call about the bid in the mornin'," Rita said. "Who do I call to cancel her butt branding?"

"I'll take care of it," Skeeter said, playing on his phone as I cleaned his boots with my tongue. "I'll talk to Cooter."

Rita patted Skeeter on the side of the face. "Don't look so disappointed. There will be other plaques."

Rosco stepped in. "That reminds me, I believe there is a tradition, where the auctioneer gets a hummer from the slave girl who gets the winning price?"

"Gosh, Mom!" Skeeter said, in an excited voice that reminded me of the time I had gotten him that $1,000 bike when he was 8-years-old. "Can I really?"

I froze. Even as I was licking his boots, I had assumed that our relationship would soon revert to normal. Skeeter's boyish voice had confirmed his loss in status, his reduction from my auctioneer to my nephew. He was a kid again, right? I was still the boss. I was his Anna-Annie, in charge, and all powerful.

I had already begun to think about how much I would enjoy prick teasing him. Yes, the little bastard would pay for what he had done, and I would manipulate him with sadistic glee. Like everyone else, Skeeter would dance to my tune.

The idea that I would have to kneel before my awkward nephew, a mere college student, and suck the scum out of his little pecker, was unthinkable.

I looked up from the floor to Rita. Would she really make me suck Skeeter's peter? She looked down at me, laying on the floor. I could see the sympathy in her eyes, and sensed my ordeal was coming to a close.

Having known Rita my entire life, we didn't have to speak. I knew that I was free to go, if I wanted to. I certainly wanted to be free, more than anything, which is why I can't explain why succumbed to the overwhelming urge I felt to reach between my legs, and rub my pussy.

In my addled fugue state, I had thought no one would understand what I was doing, and think I was just "adjusting" myself.

Can you blame me? After all I'd been through, was it that wrong for me to give myself a little rub (or two, or three)?

Skeeter was the first to speak. "Wowzer! Is she really doin' herself? I mean, on the floor, with us watchin'?"

"She's still slave hot," Rosco said knowingly. "Even after everything you put her through on the block, she's hungry for more."

It was a sexist lie. Masturbation is normal and healthy, and (if they were being honest) most women paddle their little pink canoe, at least occasionally. True, I was rowing my little boat ashore on the floor of a slave market, and I naked, and collared, with fresh whip marks on my ass. But finger flicking was a time-honored method for slave girls to ease the pain of a whipping, so much so that it was sometimes referred to as "slave girl meditation." Not that I was a slave girl.

I know my posse of female bankers, lawyers, and entrepreneurs all pleasured themselves regularly. True, none of them went hittin'-the-kitten while lying naked on the floor of their brother's office, with their brother-in-law, sister, and bug-eyed nephew watching, but that didn't make me a slave girl.

Where was my shame? Why had I thought no one would notice? When Scooter called me out, I quickly withdrew my hand, like a teenager caught playing with herself when her mother opened the bedroom door.

Rita looked down at me, genuinely stunned, attempting to comprehend what she had just seen. I could tell she was appalled, and stared at me for a good 10 seconds. Finally, she shook her head and sighed, before passing sentence.

"Well, seein' yer' still hot for it, ion't see why Skeeter shouldn't get his tip," Rita said. "Miss Fancy-Pants could never understand that bangin' slave girls is just part of the job at The Big D. 'Bout time we drove that lesson home."

"Speaking of driving lessons home, does that hall pass extend to all members of the family?" Rosco asked suggestively.

"Don't see why not. I ayn't never questioned what y'all did at work before, sweetie. Don't see why I should start now. Jist shower up before you climb into bed tonight. She looks pretty skanky, and I don't want slave stink, and sand b'tween' my sheets."

"So how far can I take this?" Rosco asked. He was looking at Rita, and asking her how far he could take things, as if my opinion didn't matter at all.

Rita shrugged. "That's up to you. I'd say far enough so she learns not to hump herself on the floor in front of her nephew."

Rosco smiled broadly. The green light had been given. Rosco was now in charge of my fate.

"Rita, please," I said, trying to speak to her in my calmest professional voice, even as my heart pounded like a triphammer. "I'm sure we could come to a financial arrangement where--"

Reaching down, Rita lifted me up by the chin, and adopted her stern mommy tone. "You think you can BUY your way out of being a slave girl? Slave girls don't have no money, dummy. Plus, they're dumb as a bag of shit, which is why I gotta do this. Showin' your hee-haw on the auction block would'a been enough for any sane girl, but ya' still ayn't gettin' it, which is why we're gonna let this go forward for a spell, fer your own good. It's time for some TOUGH love little, girl, and thank goodness I'm here to dish it out. Ya need to know what it feels like to be REAL inventory, even if it's only for one more night. Remember, this if fer' yer' own good."

Reaching down, my smiling sister tweaked my blue ear tag. "See the red SOLD sticker on yer' tag? Kinda cute. Well, yer' blued and tattooed...guess all that rubbin' means ya' need to be screwed, too."

Rita rose up. "Since Monday is yer day off, Skeeter, I think it would be a good time to use one of yer Anna Annie's Christmas presents. Anybody up for Six Flags?"

I had to roll out the way as Skeeter, returning to full little boy mode, leapt off the couch. "WOW! Six Flags! Really?"

"Yup! A VIP pass, with front of the line access. The best your Aunt's money can buy."

"Wow! Can I go on Batman, and Dive Bomber?

"As many times as you want. All day long. Till close, if you want to."

"Wow, that's super! Is Anna-Annie coming with us?" Skeeter asked.

"No, I used her phone app to check myself into the Ritz downtown for tonight, so I can get a spa treatment in the morning. There won't be enough time to pick her up after my massage, if you want to be there for park opening."

"She'll be fine," Rosco said dismissively, displaying a casual indifference to the endless indignities that formed the life of a female Pleasure Slut. "They'll kennel her until we pick her up."

Rosco turned to Skeeter. "You should get going Skeeter. Jake wants you to call him so he can congratulate you personally, and there are a whole bunch of folks who want to shake your hand."

Rita kissed Skeeter on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you. Don't forget to talk to Cooter."

"About what?" Skeeter asked.

"About canceling your Aunt's butt branding, silly! I swear, you'd forget your head if it wasn't stuck on!"

Skeeter and Rita both laughed. My butt cheeks clenched nervously, pondering the price of his forgetfulness.

Skeeter glanced over at me as he walked to the door. His eyes ran over my breasts, and between my legs. I could tell from the smile on his face that he liked what he saw.

"Don't worry," Rosco said. "I'll warm her up for you."

"Thanks, Dad," Skeeter said sincerely.

"I'm proud of you to, son," Rosco replied. Skeeter beamed.

With Skeeter gone Rita turned her attention to me, walking over until she was standing right in front of me. "Remember, Annie, I'm doing this fer' yer' own good, because I love ya. I know it's gonna be rough, but it's a lesson ya' need to learn, little sister. We'll pick ya' up tomorrow, or maybe tomorrow night, depending on how many rides Skeeter wants to go on."

"All of them, like 10 times," Rosco said, shaking his head derisively.

"Well drop by and pick ya'll up on the way home," Rita said, looking down at me. "How does that sound?"

It sounded like shit. I couldn't believe how quickly my opinion of Skeeter had shifted. When he had been standing on the auction block, he had seemed like a god, but now I was going to spend another 24 hours in a damn slave kennel, so my juvenile nephew could barf on some idiotic roller coaster. Rita could tell from my expression that I didn't like any of this, but her little grin told me she didn't have a fuck to give. Smiling, she pointed at her boots.

"Thank you, Mistress," I said, bending down to kiss the toe of her boot.

"Good girl," she said, dropping a piece of slave candy on the floor. Keeping in character, I delicately picked up the little piece of foulness with my tongue, and rolled it into my mouth.

"You have a good time, honey," she said to Rosco. "Call me in the morning, when you get to the hotel."

"Skeeter will probably want to see your suite," Rosco said.

"We can do it on the way back, before we come back to The Big D," Rita said. "That way he can see the Christmas lights all around the city."

"Then don't check out in the morning," Rosco said.

"Yeah. Maybe the three of us should stay tomorrow night. The Ritz is mighty fancy!" she laughed.

This couldn't be happening. ANOTHER night in the kennel, as inventory, because Skeeter wanted to see some twinkling Dallas Christmas lights? SERIOUSLY?

Rita kissed Rosco goodbye. Without even bothering to look at the sand covered slave slut on the floor, she walked out the door.

Rosco locked the door behind her. He turned to me, leaned against the door, and smiled. "Slave spread," he ordered.

I squatted before him, legs spread, on my toes. "You're not really going to make me do this, are you?"

"I'm not going to MAKE you do nothing, slave girl. I'm just going to give you what you need. Hell, you've been asking for it since the day I first met you. Not that I ever think you wanted me, you just wanted to show up Rita by fucking me. Well, now she's the one who's going to show you. You're going to get it, and get it GOOD. Rita left you with me so I can show you what it's like to be a slave. Like she said, this is for your own good. So, no matter what our relationship was before, you're just slave pussy to me now. Do you understand?"

"I don't want to do this, Rosco. Not with you."

"That's MASTER to you, slave girl. Why not?" he challenged, his face hardening as he assumed the role of master. "Do you think your too good for me?"

"No, it's not that. You're my brother-in-law."

"First, you and Rita aren't really sisters, so that isn't even a thing. Secondly, you've been humping my leg ever since I met you, so don't play all innocent now. And third, Pleasure Sluts don't have family. They have masters. When you're a slave, you might end up servicing people you know, and that's a lesson you need to learn. So, get on your back, legs spread."

Gritting my teeth. I got up, and walked toward the couch.

"No. On the floor."

I looked up at him, surprised.

"Why on the floor? It's cold, and hard."

"Not for me. I'll be on top of your soft, naked body. On your back, Pleasure Slut. Spread your legs, nice and wide."

I obeyed.

Rosco smiled down as he stared at my open, wet twat. Reaching between my legs, I began to rub myself.

"Who bought me? How much did I bring?"

"None of your fucking business, slave girl," he replied coldly as he unzipped his pants. "The only thing you need to worry about is being a tight little cock sleeve. Spread your legs wider. And bring your knees up. Pretend you're at your doctor, for the sniffles, and he wants the nickel show, and pops up the stirrups. That ever happen to you, sweet stuff?"

"Yes, Master," I said, assuming the position.

It was true. I had heard rumors about Doctor Cadden, who seemed to enjoy examinations a bit TOO much. Curious, I had asked around a bit more, then made myself an appointment.

I told myself that I was holding an investigation, and that if anything improper happened I would report him.

Dr. Cadden was an old man, bald, distinguished, with a white beard and mustache. He seemed quite polite, even fatherly. It was a guise. My nominal excuse for my visit was that I had sprained my wrist playing handball. He said he could tape it, if I wanted, but if I just "took it easy" for a while, it should be fine.

As he was checking the motion of my wrist, he casually asked about the background information on my medical form.

"You work out a lot, I see. You seem very fit. Any other problems I should know about?"

"No, I don't think so."

"I saw on your forms you put down your Slave Identification Number. Have you been graded?"

"Yes, Doctor," I admitted, as he slowly bent my arm back-and-forth.

"What was your grade, Anne?" he said.

"Prime Minus," I replied, blushing a bit.

"Very impressive. I assume this was a professional grade?"

"Yes, Doctor," I admitted, feeling myself flush more as he smiled knowingly at me.

"Excellent. You've had the proper training then?"

"I've had some," I said, squirming a bit on the crinkly paper.

"I bet you have. You must be slave hot to get that sort of grade. A pretty girl like you should be appropriately trained. How long has it been since you had a full physical?" he asked.

"Eight months," I said.

"Well, you're just about due. Why don't you undress over there in the corner, and put all of your things on the chair. I can give you a good going over."

I looked over in the corner. There was no screen, no gown.

Sensing my apprehension, Doctor Cadden smiled. "You're a Prime Minus, Anne, so don't play shy. Everything off. Tip-to-toe!"

Dr. Cadden sat on his round, wheeled stool, smiling as I slowly stripped for his pleasure.

He examined me to slave-gasm that day, and every six months after that. Oh, how the bastard enjoyed humiliating me. Leaving the door open when I was in the stirrups. Rectal thermometers. Needless "precautionary" enemas. Taking me out naked to weigh me in the scale in the waiting room, then leaving me there to wait with several clothed men ogling me because someone else was supposedly using my examination room. Inviting high school seniors in to watch my examination. The humiliations were worse every time. Oh, I was compiling quite a file on him.

Someday, when I had enough evidence, I'd file charges.

"Don't be shy," Rosco said. "Bring your heels up until they're touching your ass."

I obeyed. Rosco penis was average sized, but that wasn't my major concern.

"Do you have a condom?" I asked.

"You're not on the pill?" he said.

"I'm not... in a relationship. I date, but..."

"Got it. You prick tease the poor slobs you date, just like you prick tease me and Scooter. Well, you're a slave girl now, bought and paid for, and now it's time to ante up," he said, giving his hard penis a nice smooth stroke.

"Could you PLEASE use a condom?" I repeated, feeling more nervous as I saw the precum dripping from his cock.

"A hat? A rubber? A cock-sock, you mean?" he said, laughing. I could. I got a whole drawer of them! Rosco opened up his desk drawer and took out a cheerfully colored purple package.

"Purple! Just like your eternity collar. Your royal colors, your majesty," he laughed. Rosco looked at the condom thoughtfully. "Ordinarily, I'd slip this on, given what a scuzzy whore you are, but since you're not in a relationship, and I'm betting your sloppy but clean, I'm leaving it off. Tonight, you're riding bareback."

"Please!" I begged. "I don't want to get pregnant."

"Oh, I don't wanna get pregnant!" he said, mocking me with a snooty falsetto. "You mean, you don't want to be bred? Mated? Put to stud? Well, that's too bad, because slave girls don't get to decide when they get knocked up. Breeding decisions are up to the owner, or the breeder, or the farm manager. Tell you what, let's make a game of it, like the games you like to play with me and Skeeter. You like games, don't you, Anne?"