"Any Chance?" Auction Pt. 07

"I can pay double," I offered, desperately. "I'll pay The Big D double what they'd have made, selling me."

"Ya' gone slave stupid already? I swear, slave girls got poop for brains. Slave girls don't got no money. You don't even got that fancy pants credit card no more. Heck, everythin' ya own's going to me. I'll be richer than an ant in a sugar sack, if I let yer sale go through. Ya can't buy yer way out of this one, Annie. Every time you open yer map, yer givin' me more reasons to sell ya."

I wanted to say something, but I knew that anything I said would be idiotic. "Fear is for girls who don't have Platinum cards." Had I really said that, or had it been another person, long ago? Regardless, I now knew what fear was.

I struggled for arguments. My mind blanked. Rita was right. I was a shit-for-brains slave girl. Rita was spared the hopeless stupidity of my slave bimbo-babble by the arrival of Skeeter and Rosco.

Rita went up on her toes, to kiss Rosco, as they exchanged "sweeties", as Rita called their customary greeting to each other. Whatever Rosco might do with the free tail at the slave market (which now included me), it was clear that he was crazy about my sister.

I recognized Skeeter's boots, right away, with the doodle bug I had burned into them, the body of which was now burned into my left butt cheek.

"Wow, that Doodle bug looks AWESOME on her," Skeeter said, walking around me to look at my ass, and sounding like a teenager describing a new video game. "They did a super-duper job."

"Yeah, but there ayn't no legs," Rosco noted. "You should really complete it before ya' sell her. Looks kind of half-assed, if you'll pardon the pun."

Skeeter laughed at the outrageously funny dad joke, as did the slave wrangler, who no doubt reported to him.

"Naw, I'm going to free her," Rita said.

My world changed. Stunned, I looked up at her, finally taking my nose off the cement. Rita knelt down, and gently took my chin in her hand.

"I ayn't gonna let the sale go through. I'm jist tryin' to scare a little sense into ya. Don't ya' know, I love ya to the moon-and-back, Annie? Always have. I was lettin' ya play slave girl, knowing it'd be safe if ya' did it with me. Kind of a like an early Christmas present, since I can't afford to buy ya' nothing that ya' don't already have. Plus, maybe teachin' ya a lesson, fer' yer' own good."

"So, you're not going to finish my brand?"

"Naw. I think ya' done learned your lesson. Ya done playin' slave girl?"

I nodded. Annie smiled, and tussled my hair.

"Sure hope ya' don't got no lice," she said, shaking out her hand. We both shared a sisterly laugh together.

Reaching back, I gingerly touched the area close to my Doodle bug brand. "Is the brand... permanent?" I asked.

"That's a question for a free woman to ask, not a slave girl," Roscoe said.

"I beg your pardon, Master," diverting my eyes.

"They should finish the brand," Rosco said, pointedly ignoring me to remind me of my status. "It looks stupid that way."

Skeeter quickly chimed in. "Professor Atkins said he had something special planned. I told him all about Anna-Annie, and he really wants to meet her."

Rosco explained. "Merle Adkins, the branding master, thought Skeeter's drawing wouldn't look right if you just put it on all at once. See, it's so big, it's going to go around the curve of her butt. He redesigned the legs so it looks more 3-D, like the legs and wings are hanging onto the sides, like the bug is grabbing onto her butt. He's going to put the legs on one at a time."

Rita let out a low whistle. "Well, if that don't beat everything. I imagine something that intricate will smart quite a bit, burning on each leg, I mean."

"That it will," Rosco admitted. "But it will be lovely. Adkins does beautiful work."

"Yeah, he's the best," Skeeter agreed. "Ma-ma, I don't see why I should have to finish school, if she doesn't even have to finish her brands. I mean, she's always sayin' how you gotta finish what you start, no matter how hard it is. Well, I got the money where I don't need school, after her auction. I don't see why I have to do what she says, if she's just a big hypocrite."

Rosco nodded sagely. "The boy's got a point, Rita. It's yer' sister who is always on about how important college is. I don't see why she gets to pull out half way. Doesn't seem like much of an example."

"Ayn't you too a caution!" Rita said. "I think you two jist want to blister her bee-hind again!"

Looking at me, Annie gave me a warm, sisterly smiled. "Don't worry, Annie, I'm not gonna brand yer butt six times."

"Ten," Skeeter said. "There's two antennae, and two wings, too," he said, in a voice far too eager.

"Ten times, then," Rita said.

"At least ya' can let her meet Professor Atkins, and let him show us the brands," Skeeter pleaded.

Roscoe agreed. "Yeah, Merle worked pretty hard on them, Rita, and he did want to meet Annie. Skeeter's always bragging about his rich Aunt in Chicago, and telling everybody how awesome she is. As long as she's here, might as well let the man meet her."

"Okay, but no more branding, least not if she behaves herself," she said, shooting me a warning look. "I mean it, Rosco," he said.

"Merle works for me," Rosco replied. "He'll do as I say. I'll send him a text, let him know what's going on. Why don't we go get the paperwork sorted out, while your sister goes and says hello to Merle?"

"Sounds good," Rita said. "Come on, Skeeter. Time to bail yer Aunt out of slave jail!"

The slave monger with the pole was all smiles as he led me to my doom at the blacksmith's forge, predicting delicious moments for me under the iron. "I'm only sorry I can't stay and watch," he said.

"Yeah, too bad you'll have to go find somewhere else to jerk off, asshole," I thought, but didn't dare say. I knew I wasn't going to get branded -- Rosco's employees did as they were told, but I wasn't going to argue with the slave monger, who obviously wanted to see me get it good. It was a strange netherworld I was in, a slave girl about to be freed, but not daring to act free.

I didn't cover myself, and kept my arms locked behind me, gripping my elbows with my hands to keep my breasts sticking out. The Big D employees gave me a few appreciative glances, but naked girls were their business. One or two of them recognized me as "Skeeter's Aunt" or "the pussy that fetched the record price." One even joked I was 'Miss Sandiest Foot", a designation that caused me to thrust out my breasts with pride.

I felt my excitement building. Even with the pain in my ass, I felt a growing dampness between my legs. There's a strange, indescribable excitement in being paraded slave naked in front of an appreciative audience. My headlights switched on, and I ignored the pain in my butt to make my gate as alluring as possible. I so wanted them to like me!

It wasn't until we took the short cut through the store that I got real attention for my money, with several smiling men staring appreciatively at my tits and ass. These men didn't know anything about my price, but they knew what they liked.

"Nice headlights."

"What's that brand on her ass. It looks stupid."

"Maybe they were trying to do Mickey Mouse and fucked it up."

I frowned as they laughed. Rosco was right, my brand would look better finished. I hoped it was a temporary. I'd find out as soon as I was free.

The world got stranger as we went backstage again and finally reached the blacksmith's forge. I was released to the custody of Merle Adkins, or "Professor Adkins" as the monger called him. He BEEPED my collar in with a barcode reader on his belt, signaling that I was now in his possession.

"Present, slave spread," he said, after verifying the number on the inside of my lip against the barcode reader on the utility belt around his massive black apron.

As I wasn't free yet, I knelt before him, hands behind my head, legs spread. At 6'5, the barrel-chested blacksmith looked enormous. He was wearing a John Deere cap with a growth of stubble. Merle Atkins had the methodical manner of an older man, coupled with an avuncular charm.

"Well, if it isn't Skeeter's Aunt Annie," he said, smiling. "Northwestern and University of Chicago," he said, whistling in appreciation as he named my schools. "I've been to both. Most impressive!"

Much to my shock, he reached down and shook my hand. I reciprocated, then (still conscious of my status) locked my fingers behind my head.

"So do you have a specialty?" he asked. "Corporate bonds, municipal, junk?"

"Whatever I can make money on," I explained. "I do derivatives, too."

"Geez, I never could make sense of those," he said, scratching his head. "Do you think you could explain it to me?"

"If you had a year," I chuckled. "Are you really a Professor?" I asked. "Or is that... an honorific?"

"Ha! Check out the vocabulary on the naked slave girl. Yes, I teach neuroscience at SMU. I did some research up at University of Chicago Medical Center. Damn fine school."

"It is, although I studied economics and finance, not medicine," I said.

"Chicago's where all the Nobel Prize winning economists come from, right? You must be super smart."

"I've done okay. Chicago has a strong program," I said modestly.

"I've looked you up on that Forbes list. You've done more than okay. And Northwestern's pretty strong, too, right? Is it's MBA program number 1?"

"I don't know where Forbes gets their numbers," I said modestly. "Northwestern's number 3, but who's counting?" I said.

Merle let out a barrel-chested laugh. "Skeeter chatters about you all the time, about how his Aunt Annie did this, and his Aunt Annie said that. He quotes you like the Bible. I took a ride on my Aunt Annie's jet, my Aunt Annie's Tesla drives itself. Aunt Annie took me to a party where I met Bono. He's got quite a crush on you."

"He's a fine boy," I offered.

"Yes, he is," Adkins agreed. "Well, it's an honor to finally meet you in person. You're quite the celebrity. I watched a couple of your Ted talks last year. You've got a brilliant mind, and you're a good speaker, too. Very inspirational."

"That's very kind of you," I said, basking in the compliment. "I think most people lack the basic financial literacy, and understanding of the markets, necessary to create a portfolio that will perform under a variety of market conditions, save for their children's education, or plan their retirements."

The situation couldn't have been more bizarre. I was a naked, collared slave girl, kneeling with legs spread, discussing portfolio management with a fully clothed college Professor who, if he had permission to do so, would brand my butt. It wasn't until he smiled, and let his eyes run slowly down my body, that I once again became conscious of my nakedness.

"Speaking of performances, I caught your little number on the auction block. You are one smoking hot piece of slave pussy, Northwestern. I loved the way you lathered yourself up, and showed the buyers all your assets. Talk about a pork-folio!"

I felt myself blush as his laughter returned my mind to my present circumstances, and why I was there, a point brought home as he ran his hand lovingly over the black iron branding rack next to him. "I wanted to show you this, Northwestern. I figure somebody as rich and smart as you are can really appreciate quality. I made this, in my shop. Sort of a hobby of mine. Do you like it?"

"Um... it's very... intricate," I said nervously. "Very... sturdy. Almost beautiful," I said, qualifying 'beautiful' with 'almost' as I was painfully aware of its purpose.

"Would you like to try it out?" he teased. "I'd love to get your professional opinion."

"No, I'm good," I said nervously. "I'm not going to get branded, actually."

"So Rosco says. If you behave," he added, giving me a playful wink. It was obvious that he and Rosco had communicated while I was being walked to the forge.

"Your brand looks kind of silly the way it is," he said, frowning. "Sort of looks like a bug, I guess, but it's really half done."

I frowned as I looked over my shoulder, straining to see my bottom. "Somebody on the way over said it look like a half-assed Mickey Mouse. Is it really that bad?"

"Yeah, it's pretty terrible," he said sadly. "It's like half a Mona Lisa. Kind of ironic, with that Ted Talk you gave. 'The future belongs to finishers. Inspiration is no match for completion. Do you believe that, Annie?"

Unsure of where this was going, given the context, I hesitated before nodding.

Merle smiled and walked over to his beautifully crafted branding bench. Clearly proud of his work, he ran his hand over the padding. "Your Ted talk inspired me to finish this. It took me a long time, but it was worth it. See, extra padding for the knees and elbows, for maximum comfort. I wouldn't want an important celebrity finance whiz like you getting your knees scraped. Ya gotta try it out."

"Well, it is lovely, but I must demur."

"Demur? Ayn't you a hoot? I love the way you talk, slave girl. Come on, tell me what your think! You're always the smartest one in the room, and got an opinion on darn near everything, from what Scooter says."

"Branding racks aren't really my area of expertise," I said.

He chuckled, and grinned down at me. "Well, not yet. Please, I insist. Let's see that doodle bug!" he said, with a wink.

Professor Adkins was playing with me, with him in the role of the cat, and me in the role of the plump, juicy, helpless mouse. I was still a slave girl, and he was the blacksmith, ordering me onto his branding rack.

He was still smiling, but his gaze hardened, indicating that fun time was over. He tapped the branding rack twice, indicating that my time had come. The other hand rested pointedly on the slave whip on his utility belt.

Ever the gentleman, he even offered me his hand, and helped me up onto the branding rack, as if he were a member of the Royal Guard helping the Queen mount her horse. I positioned myself, bottom raised high in the air, hands in front.

"As you see, I just need to turn like one knob after I get you positioned, and the bars spring closed."

I jerked as the mouse trap was released, and the iron bars clamped down, locking me into place.

"Nice, isn't it?" he said proudly. "No straps to tug at, and just the iron bars holding you in place. Lots of bars, so there's no marks in anyone place, but positioning you in so you can't get any leverage, or do anything but wiggle your toes, and clamp your little fists."

Smiling, he put his finger on my nose, and wiggled it playfully, like I was a little girl.

"Yes, I see," I said, feeling my panic mounting. "It's brilliantly designed. You can let me up now."

"I want to show you the best part," he said. "Speaking of best parts, you're a pretty smart girl, but this button here gives me access to your best part."

He pressed a button on the side, causing my ass to slide up, and my legs to spread wide, raising me into the perfect position for sex. Reaching between my legs, he cupped my sex in his hand, and ran his fingers inside of me. "Your best part! Your hot, wet, stinky slave pussy. That's what Skeeter sold off the block, not your fancy college degrees. Though you being a brainiac makes finger-fucking you more fun."

I gasped as he fingered me towards orgasm. "Please, don't. Let me up!"

"What's your hurry, Northwestern?" he said. "Don't you want to get the full experience?"

I groaned in frustration as he pulled his fingers out of my snatch. Walking over to the forge he used a pair of tongs to extract an iron from the fire. "Recognize this, Annie?" he asked.

It looked like a little squiggle. I tried to shake my head no, but I could barely move.

Adkins laughed as he slowly waved the tip of the glowing branding iron in my face. "This is one of the legs for your Doodle bug. This is the bottom leg, left hand side. I got six in the fire, each one unique, each carefully molded and shaped for that big round ass of yours. Worked pretty hard on it. I was going to make your butt MY Mona Lisa."

"I'm not going to be branded," I protested, wanting to make sure we see the record straight.

"Aren't we all sure of ourselves? And from a girl on the branding rack, no less. Normally girls in your position are a bit less sassy."

I gasped as he teased me with the glowing worm tip of the branding head, turning it, and moving it around my field of vision.

"I used the pictures of you on the block, and your measurements, to build a 3-D model of your ass in the computer. It's going to look like the bug is grabbing onto the sides of your butt, and when you walk down the beach and you shake your ass, it will look like the antenna are moving. It's going to be a masterpiece, Annie. A real work of art."

I could feel the heat pouring off the head, and it was so hot that it shimmered in the light, as if it were alive.

"You're an amazing young lady, Annie. I've had your ass in my sights for years. I brand a lot of pretty butts, but it isn't often I get to brand a girl as rich, and smart, and accomplished as you are. You're smart enough to understand what I'm about to do to you, and how a brand like this will change your life, and your mind, forever. You're special, Northwestern, and you deserve the best brand I can muster."

Smiling, he held the brand up. "Look at that glow. Wow, it's really going to sizzle, and I'm going to do them one-after-another. I know you're a big shot, and I'm the sort of little guy a girl like you would forget about 10 seconds after you met me. But you ayn't gonna forget me after today. Not ever."

"Rosco told you not to brand me," I said nervously. "You work for him, and have to do what he says."

Atkin's smiled. "You do have a mouth on you, slave girl. I have to say, I'm not used to girls in your position giving orders. But you're right about the instructions from Old Rosco. Damn shame, if you ask me. But a fella can dream, can't he?"

I breathed a sigh of relief as he returned the little worm like brand to the fire, even as I wondered why he felt it still needed to be heated. "Tell ya' what. Why don't I put in your gag, like you were going to be branded. Just in case. I mean, if somebody changes their mind, we don't want to waste any time, right? We want to be ready, right?"

"No, I don't think ah wa-wa aah gah!"

Opening my mouth to argue allowed him to effortlessly slipped a large "O" ring gag into my mouth, fitting the round bit behind my teeth, and silencing me with the practiced ease of someone who silenced girls for a living.

My slave jabber silenced, he turned his attention to my other end, running his hand over my cheek, and checking the workmanship of The Big D logo burned between my cheeks.

"You know, this is just a hobby for me, Annie, but it's a job I love. Making perfect asses more perfect."

Taking the cream out of his pocket, Professor Atkins began to rub it into my ass, over the throbbing Doodle bug, and inside my newly branded butt cheek. The cream was cool, but my bottom screamed as he rubbed the cream in. Soon I was sobbing, and drooling, and looking over my shoulder at him with teary eyes.

"Aw, does that hurt, Aunt Annie?" he teased. "You want me to kiss it and make it better? Well, my kiss is about 300 degrees," he said chuckling.

I groaned and drooled as he continued to caress my bottom. Running his finger over the welt of my doodle bug brand. "I know it smarts, but I got to figure out how hot the brand was and what the burn was like, so I can get the right temperature. There's a real science to this, Annie, but there's a real art, too."

Walking around to the front, I watched Professor Atkins take a branding handle off the wall. "I designed this one myself. I can just stick it into the fire and snap it right into the branding head, locking it in place. Then I press the release and move onto the next leg. Quick, and easy."