"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 05

"Aren't you a caution?" he said, echoing one his mom's favorite country phrases. "Even now, thinking you can prick tease me, like you're in charge. But now, I'm the one holding the whip."

Skeeter unhooked the ivory handled whip from his belt. I swallowed hard as he shook out the coils.

"Do you know how totally boss it was to watch you prance across the auction block, slave naked, with that idiotic slave smile pasted on your face? I wanted to crack your ass with the whip right then, but it was better to make you work for it, showing everyone how hot and juicy you were, stripping away your pride and dignity, one bid at a time."

Skeeter was clearly relishing the shift in our power dynamic. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he was massaging the stands of the whip through in his fingers in a very purposeful way. Instead, I clenched my thighs together, enjoying my growing excitement as I struggled to fathom the full extent of this mere boy's new found power over me.

"Wink your asshole, you skanky slut, so I can stick a match in it, and set it on fire with my whip. And you did it! Oh, the look on your face. You didn't look so smart, clenching your butt cheeks to keep your asshole from catching fire, ha-ha."

My ears burned with his mocking laughter, but my eyes were transfixed on the whip, playing between his fingers.

"Do you know what a rush it was, holding the gavel in my hand, listening to the bids pour in, knowing that when I finally decided to drop the hammer, I'd strip you of everything you ever had? What a rush!"

I gasped, struggling to breathe. "I really... I really am a slave girl? I have nothing?"

Skeeter looked genuinely sympathetic as tears rolled down my face.

"Don't cry, Anna Annie. Skeeter's here for you. I know it must be hard, going from having more money than you can burn, to being a penniless Pleasure Slut. That's why I want to give you the chance to earn something."

Skeeter reached into his pocket. He took out a length of purple yarn, with a few beads on it. "This is a barefoot sandal. You put the little loop around your toe, and then the rest goes around your ankle. Normally you have two, one for each foot, but I thought one was enough to start with. See? The purple matches your eternity collar. Now, girls in the pens normally get stripped of everything, so this is quite the prize, especially for a freshly collared, right off the block piece of slave meat. My, will the other girls be jealous of you!"

Skeeter laughed, as I grinned greedily. He knew all the buttons to press. I had to have it now.

Skeeter, leaning forward, rubbed the purple yarn against my face and collar. The yarn was cheap looking but the shades were almost a perfect match. It was beautiful! "So what do you think of it? Do you want it?"

I licked my lips hungrily as I looked at it. To a free woman, it was really just a piece of yarn with a couple of cheap plastic beads on it. It was the sort of a thing you might give to a young girl playing on the beach, and throw away at the end of the day, rather than bother washing. It was certainly not the sort of thing that I would ever be caught dead wearing. My girlfriends would die with laughter if they ever saw me with something so obviously cheap.

To a free woman, such a vulgar adornment was shameful, but to a slave girl, a cheap bauble like this was a priceless treasure, something of her very own to wear! Like the bitter slave candy that lucky Pleasure Sluts were allowed to eat off the floor as treats, even one barefoot sandal was quite the prize.

I stared at it, marveling at its beauty. "I think it's gorgeous, Master," I confessed. "May I have it?"

Skeeter laughed. "Hold yer' horses, Anna-Annie. Remember what you always told me about yearning?"

"You need to yearn, earn, and learn," I replied, recalling my wise Aunt adage, which I smugly dropped whenever Skeeter asked me for something, to the point where Skeeter used to give me his best teenage eye-roll.

"That's right. Now like you always told me, you have the yearning part down but we need to work on the earning and the learning. Like you always said, everything has a price."

"How much does it cost?" I said, staring at my prize like a ravenous wolf.

"A local girl makes them, and sells them to us for 10 cents a pair. We sell 'em by the register in one of the slave mall stores, in a batch, for about a $1. Do you have $1, Annie?"

I pouted and shook my head. I did not.

"Well, you're family. I could sell them to you wholesale. Do you have 10 cents? Or 5 cents, since I only have one?"

My pout increased. "No, Master", I said, head down.

"Why not? Why don't you have any money?"

Skeeter obviously relishing the moment, smirked down at me, even as my eyes filled with tears of frustration. It was humiliating, but to admit it, but I knew what I had to say. "Because I am a stupid, worthless Pleasure Slut. I lost all my money, when I became a slave girl, when you dropped the gavel on me. I have nothing but what you give me."

"That's right. The sale is good when the hammer hits wood. You're learning, slave girl. Do you want the barefoot sandal?"

"Yes, Master. More than anything."

"I see. Do you expect me to GIVE it to you?" he asked pointedly.

I knew where Skeeter's game was going, and I didn't like it one bit. He was enjoying himself, ratcheting the screws ever tighter on my slavery, savoring my loss of power.

"Whatever pleases you, Master," I said, staring down at his mosquito branded boots.

"Well, I could give it to you. I got it out of the bobbles box in the prep room, so it's not like it cost me anything. But then you wouldn't learn anything. You need to EARN, so that you can LEARN. That's what you always told me, right?"

"Yes, Master," I said dejectedly.

"How does an illiterate, slave naked Pleasure Slut, without anything to offer, earn her master's favor?"

Skeeter, leaning back on the couch, spread his legs wider. I could see his erection through his pants. His penis answered his question.

"Please, Master. Please let me suck your cock."

"Good girl," he patronized. "See? You're smarter than you look. Unzip my pants. Use your teeth."

With my hands cuffed behind my back I really had no choice to do otherwise. It didn't take me long, for in my private slave training I had learned how to do this, albeit with a dummy instead of a live male, to avoid humiliating myself.

Now, humiliating myself was a distant memory in the rear-view mirror. Indeed, judging from the smirk on Skeeter's face, it was the object of the exercise. I unzipped his pants, looking up at him with a silly look on my face as he leered down at me, my chin pressing against his already erect cock through his shorts.

Skeeter, anxious to get started, fished his penis out of his pants. He was a bit smaller than his father, and very, very hard. Skeeter, smiling, bobbled his shaft near my face, tweaking my nose.

"Now, I want you to take a good look at my pecker. Do you see the little eyehole at the end? Look closely. He's laughing at you."

The little hole of his shaft was slightly open, and the pre-cum was already dripping from it. His quivering little penis seemed like a living thing, as it bobbed up and down on its own, anticipating my slave kiss.

"Please, Master," I begged, licking my lips lasciviously. "Please let me taste your salty semen. I am not worthy of your beautiful hardness, but let me earn my barefoot sandal."

Skeeter, grinning, pointed at his pecker, signaling me to begin. I slowly extended my tongue, gently licking the first few drops off the end. Although I had mastered my oral technique in slave training, working with a realistic mechanical model, in my personal life, I rarely ever gave head. I had done it once for my grading, of course. It was disgusting, but hot, because it was part of my grading. I had vowed that would be the first and last penis I ever put in my mouth.

In my dating life, I received oral, naturally. In fact, I demanded it. My poor boyfriends would lick me for hours, just to get a quick hand job, or the chance to jerk off while I smirked at the poor little monkeys.

Pussy licking was fine, but the very idea of a woman as powerful and in control as me, letting a mere man stick his dirty pecker in my mouth, was unthinkable. As a woke, feminist icon, I would never consider degrading myself in that way.

But I wasn't a feminist icon anymore. Now I was a naked and bound Pleasure Slut, ordered to suck up her auctioneer's jizz. Carefully, I extended my tongue, and let the gob of discharge roll onto the tip. It was salty, and smelled like chlorine, but my brain was in full Pleasure Slut mode. I licked my lips, savoring his taste, eager for more.

Without waiting to be asked, I opened my mouth, and licked the head all around, before slowly taking his purple hood in my mouth.

Skeeter, eyes closed, groaned in pleasure. He kept up a commentary as I sucked his beautiful cock.

"That's it. Swirl that tongue around. Nobody's going to want to hear slave jabber from you. Your tongue is for sucking cock. Yeah, you know what to do. EARN your 10-cents, slave girl. Suck it REAL good."

Skeeter grabbed my pigtails, using them as handles as he fucked my face.

"That's a good ho. Earn that dime! Wrap those big lips of yours around my dick. Oh, yeah, you're hungry for it. Suck it out, like it's mommy's big titty. I know you want it. Pleasure Sluts long to taste their master's pearl jam. You're hungry for it. You want me to wash out your dirty mouth."

I moaned my approval. "Yeah, you like that, don't you? Of course, you do. You like the taste, too, don't you, slut? You want to taste my power. That's it. Polish my knob. Suck the tool of the man who sold your skanky ass off the auction block. Show me what a cheap little ho you are, or I'll whip your ass."

My eyes glanced at his right hand, which was holding the slave whip. The nervousness I felt, seeing that Skeeter literally had the whip hand, earned me a stern admonishment.

"Concentrate. At a moment like this, the best way to save your ass is to not think about it. The only thing that exists in your world, slave girl, is my hard pecker. No job, no money, no worries. Just my cock and your sweet, wet, tongue."

"That's it. Shine that ding dong. Polish it really good. Roll your tongue around the head of the little boy who stripped you of everything you had, who humiliated you in front of the whole world. Show your auctioneer you were worth the commission I earned selling you."

"Good news, Annie. I talked to the man who bought you, and he said I could brand you tomorrow. No, don't stop swirling that tongue. Concentrate. That's better. That's a good little cocksucker! Anyway, I told your new owner the entire story, about how I drew the little mosquito in school, and mom put it up on the fridge, and you stole it and framed it in your mansion, and how it became my totem that I put on my books and boots and jacket. I showed it to him on my boots. I told him I wanted to burn it right on your ass. He thought it was hysterical. Too bad I can't watch. Maybe."

I tried to protest, but it came out garbled. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Anna Annie," Skeeter chuckled. "Besides, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say I told Mom that I'd call in the morning and cancel your branding. Heck, I could do it right now, but it's more fun to leave it for the morning. Make you sweat a little. Let you think about it, the blacksmith getting it all nice and red hot, then SZZZZZZZ!" he said.

I flinched in pain as the laughing adolescent made a sizzling sound as he described burning his childish doodle into my ass.

"Gosh, I hope I remember. Because it would be a crying shame if you got your sweet little ass branded like a cow because I went on the Dive Bomber at Six Flags once too many times. Not that it matters. I mean, you're only a Pleasure Slut now, right? And they say getting a good old-fashioned butt-brand really clears a girl's mind, and makes her understand what being property is all about."

I whimpered my disapproval. Skeeter laughed.

"See? I just mention a butt brand, and you're already mooing! Are you afraid of the branding iron, Annie? You should be. 'Fear is for girls who don't have platinum cards', he said, mocking me again with my own words. And right now, you don't got shit."

"No, don't slow down. Keep that tongue moving! Concentrate, Annie. Remember, sucking dick is what you're for now. Ayn't like nobody's going to want to have a CONVERSATION with a Pleasure Slut. You need to learn your place, girl," he said, pointing the whip at me, "before the whip learns it for you."

"I wonder what your new name will be. Based on the job you're doing, I think they might call you "Hummer." "Or maybe city girl, or Chicago", he snickered, tweaking my blue tag.

"Oh, that feels good. That's it, I'm almost there," he said, pulling on my pigtails. "That's a good little cocksucker. Suck it good. Do you remember what a prick tease you were? Damn it, if you weren't sexy as hell."

Skeeter went falsetto as he mocked my Chicago accent. 'Oh, Skeeter! Would you really enslave me? Would you really take away all my clothes, and strip me down slave naked? Would you make me get on my knees, and pleasure you, with my hot, wet mouth?'"

"I would, and I am," he chuckled. "Your wish is granted, my little Sandy Foot Girl. Fresh off the auction block, barefoot and pregnant, sucking on my pecker. I'm going to shoot an enormous load of my dirty splooge right into your sassy little mouth."

"Remember how you liked to call me "Squirt" all the time, in front of my friends? Are you still going to call me "Squirt" after I squirt in your mouth? Because if you call me "Squirt" again, I'm going to just wink and smile, and we'll both know. We'll KNOW. Oh, that's it. Tickle the vent with your tongue. Tease it..."

Skeeter was close to losing it now. I winced as he tightened his grip on my pigtails, but my tongue kept busy, tickling, teasing, pleasing.

In truth, I could hardly wait to taste his delicious load. He was my master, and I desperately sought his approval.

"Here it comes. Don't swallow. Don't swallow! I want you to taste every drop!"

His ejaculation fired out of his dick like a cork leaving a champagne bottle. It would have hit the back of my throat, but I had learned how to roll my tongue back and over his penis, creating a safe space for him to empty his load, and providing him with the delightful sensation of my tongue pressed right against the end of his gun.

The force of the blast pushed my tongue back further in my mouth, as did the second blast. The 3rd spasm was much easier to handle, although I handled all three to perfection, proving my Prime Minus status, proving my worthiness to suck my master's pecker.

The last few spurts were sad, and a little pathetic. I milked it out of him, though, enjoying his ecstasy, eager to please.

I smiled at him, savoring my triumph as he struggled to recover his wits. He spent a good 30 seconds just staring at me. He had lost it, and we both knew it. My master loved me! Who was the slave now? I had won his heart.

"Open your mouth," he finally gasped. Show it to me."

I knew what he wanted to see. I opened my mouth, and showed him the gobs of sperm on my tongue.

"Keep your mouth open, just like that. Don't spill any."

I kept my mouth open wide, being careful to keep my head steady as he finally unlocked my elbow cuffs. Having my arms free felt wonderful, but I managed to keep the gobs of sperm in place even as I shook out my arms.

Skeeters voice was clear as he gave his next set of directions. "Now I want you to take my jizz, and smear it under your nose, so you can smell it, really good. Then smear it on your lips, and all around your tongue. But keep your mouth open, and don't lick. I want it to dry. I'll be back in a few minutes."

I obeyed, and stretched, and smeared, and let his jizz dry under my lip, and lips, and tongue. It was fully dried when he returned to the office wheeling a large dog crate on a handcart, and carrying a black hood.

"Ha, you got a scum mustache, girl," he chuckled. "Looks good on ya'. I always said my splooge is the best makeup a girl can wear."

I frowned. "You do this with other slave girls?" I said, feeling jealous. "Tell me I'm the best, Master."

"You're the priciest, that's for damn sure. And that was a mighty fine hummer."

"Your cream is delicious, Master." Looking at him, I smiled seductively, and licked my lips a little. "I don't think I need to be kenneled, Master. I'd rather go home, and spend the night with you."

"That's what I told Mom", he said, opening the cage door. But she said you weren't quite understanding your place yet, so she got a big day planned for you tomorrow. You'll need some rest, so I'm going to put this slave dummy hood on you. Mom told me to get purple, so it will match your collar. She knows you like to coordinate."

Skeeter held up a large, leather hood, bulky, that looked sort of like a pillow. It was a lavender color, and had an enormous, stupid grin and two eyes stamped on. It had a hole to breathe out of, but no eyeholes, and no ear holes.

"Cute, isn't it? Mom picked this hood out for you. She said you'll look just like a tootsie pop."

"The grin looks like the one on the Kool Aid package," I said. "I'll look stupid."

"I think that's why mom picked it. You're a naked, collared Pleasure Slut, with a wet pussy and a face full of jizz, about to be kenneled in a slave market. Maybe a night in the dummy hood will help ya' get over your billionaire bullshit. Slave dummies don't have no money, or status, or fancy degrees. You can dream sweet dreams about everything being taken away."

I shuddered. I knew when you became a legal slave girl, degrees and certifications were automatically revoked, to avoid embarrassing the University. I wondered if my degrees from Northwestern and The University of Chicago were going to be erased in some routine nightly batch program that uploaded information on new slave girls from The Big D.

"I got you a large kennel, with a plastic floor under the grate if you need to pee. The hood will help you sleep. No light, no noise. Nothing but your own thoughts. I'll throw a wool blanket in there, too. Like I said, you have a big day tomorrow, and you'll need your rest. But I'm leaving your hands free, so you can buff your button when you feel like it. You have my permission to slave-gasm. "Mom wants me to send her a picture of you in the hood. Say's seein' ya' in it will be a real hoot."

Having made an enormous point of my intellectual superiority over the years, I knew that Rita would find a picture of me, slave naked and wearing a dummy hood, uproariously funny. Which is why I didn't want her to have it.

"I think it would be better if..."

"You arguing with me is why mom says you need a night in the kennel, and what she's got planned for you tomorrow, too. But before I flip off your lights, I want you to think about something. You were pretty embarrassed, up on the block, in front of all your so-called friends, right?"

My blush was my answer.

"What I want to know is why you're embarrassed and they're not? Why is it okay for a bunch of guys to get their rocks off watching you get your randy ass auctioned, but you, the one doing all the work, is embarrassed? Seems like they should be way more embarrassed than you."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," I admitted.

"Well now you have something to think about, slave girl. Some thoughts to turn over in that tiny, pea-sized, slave girl brain of yours, dummy. Now, into your kennel."

"Thank you, Skeet... Master. But what about my barefoot sandal?"

"Maybe next time. The blowjob was good, but I know you can do better. Don't worry, I'll give you another chance, slave girl."