"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 06

"Yeah," her friend giggled. "It's cuz' they got shit for brains."

No one seemed concerned. The students were smiling, or looking at me as a curiosity. My ass was the class project, and I had no more sympathy than a frog in a dissection dish.

Steven and Peter quickly immobilized me, using extra metal bars and straps to convert my honeypot harvest station into a branding rack. Peter stripped off the bee stockings and removed the other bee paraphernalia, as Steven but a thick, well chewed, and disgusting leather bit in my mouth.

"Make sure it presses down over her tongue, so she doesn't bite it off when we drive the iron home. And lace it tight. We're doing quite a few brands here, and we don't want the little slut to shake it loose. Peter, put the pee pan between her legs."

In my mind, I pictured the doodle bug drawing in my mansion in Chicago. A body with a tale and two wings, six legs, and two antennas. Combined with the humiliating Big D logo branded on the inside of one of my ass cheeks, this means I would have to suffer the indescribable pain and humiliation of being branded not once, but ten times.

"Did Skeeter draw this?" one of the students asked. "It looks like that thing he's got on his backpack, and his boots."

"He sure did," the blacksmith said. "This is his Aunt Annie, from Chicago. He sold her last night. Skeeter's family, so we really want to do a quality job.

"This is his rich aunt?" one of his students said. "The one he brags about all the time? Shit, she's taken a tumble, ha-ha!"

The blacksmith pulled back on my hair, lifting my head. "Yank that gag back tight, Steven. No, tighter. Yank it hard. We want to pull her lips back, so she gives us a nice big slave grin, while we brand that big fat ass of hers."

I thought my mouth was going to split open as he yanked back on the gag and laced it shut, but the forced rictus did give me a forced, idiotic "slave grin".

Jennifer smiled down at me and wiggled my nose as I looked up at her. "That's it's, slut. Give us a big Pleasure Slut smile, while we sizzle The Big D logo right into your slave girl ass. Do you like the taste of your gag? That's all the slave sluts who have chewed it before you. Now you can add your teeth marks to all the rest. Isn't that nice?"

Behind me, the blacksmith held class. "Okay, her ass is spread wide enough to see her butt hole, and we're going to do it right on the inside of her left cheek. It's pretty sensitive here, and the cream will make it even more so. So that's why you have to get her locked in real tight. I like to do a pin test before I use the iron."

I screamed into my gag and tried to jerk away as he stuck a pin right into my ass cheek. Everyone laughed.

"See? She can't move. That means a clean brand, if you hold it steady. Okay, we're ready. Let's get to work, and strike while the iron is hot."

Roger took the branding head out of the fire. It was bright red, with a little orange, and yellow. It looked like it was pulsing, like a living thing. At the sight of it, I screamed into my gag, causing Jennifer to lift my chin and smile.

"Ooooh, that does look hot, doesn't it. Ouch!" the little bitch teased.

Holding it several feet in front of his face, Roger blew on it, causing it to glow. Everyone laughed. I noticed Hillary, the little bitch girlfriend of Skeeter's who had "fiddled" me that morning, had returned, and had a camera stuck in my face to record my reaction to being branded. No doubt they'd have a good laugh, watching me bite into my gag as the branding iron made its mark.

It is often said that a true slave girl's brand itches for her brand. I had always thought that was nonsense, and in any event, chalked up my excitement to the vibrator buzzing in my clit. After all, I wasn't a slave girl, right?

But will it surprise you to learn that in addition to being terrifying, I also found the glowing, iron fascinating, and inexplicably beautiful? The everchanging colors of the pulsing tip were gorgeous, and strangely hypnotic. I stared at it like a child staring at a beautiful, colorful kaleidoscope.

Beyond its beauty, I also felt a strong surge of pride. The Big D was the ultimate mark of quality, and regularly showed up on the list of the most coveted slave girl hallmarks in the US. It was internationally known, which is why my initial investment in Southwest Shipping had earned me a small fortune.

The pulsing iron wasn't merely a brand, it was an award, and a symbol of achievement. Like the logos on my designer handbags, or the hood ornaments on my cars, it was a mark of quality. Now, I wouldn't merely be owning quality. I would be quality.

After years of slave yoga, and the ordeal of the auction block, all of my hard work was finally paying off. I knew my slave sisters would be so jealous. I hoped that someday I would see my girlfriends in Chicago again, so that I could so them my beautiful brand. I groaned into my gag. My pussy was humming, and I finally understood why slave girls itched for the brand.

Although few women would ever admit it, a lot of girls with slave girl fantasies fantasize about being branded. Not that they actually want it, but it is part of the fantasy of being owned, and being reduced to a naked, panting, sexual animal. Was I to be condemned, for having the courage to make my fantasy come true?

The moment had come. The preliminaries were over, and I could feel the heat from the iron behind me as Roger moved into position. "Okay, now this is no different than branding that leather we did in class last week, except this piece of meat is gonna make more noise, and try to jerk away," the blacksmith said. "But don't worry, she ayn't going nowhere. Nice and smooth... Press it down hard"

Every muscle in my body jerked as the iron touched my inside bottom cheek. The paperwork in Rita's bag said I was a Pleasure Slut, and I had been sold like a real Sandy Foot Girl. Now the hot iron was marking me as a Pleasure Slut forever.

Forever. Forever.

I felt like I was going to burn through the gag. The pain was indescribable.

"Look, she's pissing like a race horse!" one boy laughed. Was I? All I could feel was the iron.

It might seem odd, as I knew that the vibrator was set up so that I couldn't come, but at that moment I felt my orgasm wash over me in waves. My pussy was humming, and the pain vanished as behind me the blacksmith did a slow count.

"One-Alamo."

"Two-Alamo."

"Three-Alamo."

"I don't know what the final count was, as overcome with pleasure, pride, and joy, I passed out.