Auctioned Teacher Ch. 01

'Come over here, slave,' Harry told her, and pointed at his lap.

'So sorry, master, slave is sorry, master,' Suzanne chirruped, with a look of consternation screwing up her face.

'Silly little thing, it's not a punishment. Your master is going to remove the butt plug!' he laughed.

'Oh! Thank you, master,' she giggled.

Over his knee, bare bottom up, he carefully eased the butt plug out. With a popping sound, it pulled out. He massaged her asshole with grease, and the fingers of his other hand strayed between her lips.

'Do you like this, slave?' he asked.

'Oh! Yes, master! Please, master, may slave speak?' she humbly asked.

'Go ahead, slave,' he told her.

'May slave cum, master, please, master?' she whined.

'Go ahead, slave,' he said, and laughed at the silly slave-girl.

'Ooo! Yes! Oh! Yes! Mmmm!' she moaned and groaned.

'Thank you, master,' she eventually managed to say.

'Slave's asshole has been stretched enough, so slave won't need another butt plug,' he announced.

'Thank you, master,' she sincerely spoke.

He wasn't sure if she was thanking him for not wearing another of the graduated butt plugs, or the orgasm. Maybe it was for both. The tone of voice was perfect as usual. She had the right tone of respect and thankfulness for everything he did to her, however small and insignificant.

The woman had accepted the training to become a perfectly obedient slave-girl. The slave was ready, though further tests were needed before sale. It was a pleasant business, lucrative, even though it was time consuming. It was better than commuting every day, as he could work from home. If he hadn't stumbled upon this niche market, he would still be in the rat race, driving through heavy traffic to an office, and working late to impress the boss.

'Clean yourself up, slave, and join me in the dressing room,' he ordered.

Eagerly running to the shower she quickly rinsed off. Making sure her cunt was clean and not leaking, then she ran to her master.

'Try these on,' he told her.

With plenty of talcum powder, she squeezed into a one-piece latex outfit. Since the kidnapping her breasts had been stimulated to grow, and in the skin tight outfit they looked larger still. A zip at the crotch would allow her to go to the toilet, as well as allow access to her sex.

She walked up and down, with her master examining how the red latex stretched around her crotch, and bottom. He poked a finger into her crotch, where built in dildo's penetrated her pussy and asshole. As she walked around the room, they wriggled around inside her. It was a weird sensation, though pleasant enough. Her eyelashes flashed a Morse code, giving away her excitement from them working both her holes.

It reminded her that she had been trained to fit a bendy dildo into her ass, and pussy. It was ribbed for extra sensations, and could be manipulated with one hand, to move in and out of both holes at once. She remembered the first time using it, where he sat watching her, laid back on the floor with legs spread, working herself up. The result was a magnificent orgasm. She'd never had such a powerful orgasm, and wondered if her master would punish her, but he didn't mind being second to a dildo.

'It fits well, but it won't do for tonight,' he said.

She managed to pull the latex from her body, with a little help from her master.

Next to be tried on was a close fitting leather outfit. It was all zips, allowing every private part of her body to be exposed. The shiny black leather looked sexy on her, especially with the high heel, thigh high boots. She had to be careful in the spiked heels, as they would damage the flooring.

Her master unzipped a breast where it sat in the leather holder, tempting a mauling. He tweaked a nipple, eliciting a little girly giggle from her. She looked shy, while looking up at him through long eyelashes.

This gave him an idea.

'Try these on,' he told her.

Standing before a full length mirror she critically eyed herself. Was this as good, or better than the other outfits. They were going somewhere, so she wanted to be at her best for her master, not wanting to let him down, it was just unthinkable. She just couldn't do such a thing, and even the thought was a physical pain.

'You look incredible! That is it. I will be proud to escort you to the club, my wonderful slave,' he said.

Looking at his smile, to confirm he meant it, she nearly swooned with happiness. Pleasing her master was everything to her, and she had just achieved just that. His compliments were golden treasures, worth more than diamonds. A tiny part of her mind said she was being foolish, but that was easily ignored for the practicality of being his slave-girl, and needing to obey. The training made it possible to ignore that tiny voice of the past, which was shrinking every day, until it would soon be silent.

Suzanne wondered what dress she would wear. She felt inadequate to be wearing such expensive high heels. They were shiny and red, in a simple style. White stockings were held up by a suspender belt. A half cup bra held her large breasts up and out. It somehow contrived to make them seem larger than ever.

She had worked upon them with a breast pump, and injections over the last few weeks, and had good results. They looked firm and natural, much larger and firmer, than before. For a moment she wondered about before, but couldn't recollect anything, just shadows, which faded when trying to concentrate upon them. Soon nothing would remain, as she concentrated on being a perfectly obedient slave-girl. That was her aim, and duty.

The g-string was sheer. Her shaven cunt was kept clean and smooth at all times, and was shown off to its best in the sheer material cupping it. The plump lips were glistening, from the compliments of her body.

'Be careful slave-girl, or you will have to change those panties. Don't worry your silly little head over it, I'll take some spares with us. If we run out, you will have to go bare. Your waist training has paid off. Twenty-two inches is incredible. It makes your tits look huge. Especially in that bra. The long cleavage looks deep. Something to nestle a cock in,' he told her.

She shook her hips, and giggled again.

'Master, may slave speak, please?' she humbly spoke.

'Sure go ahead,' he commanded.

'Which dress should I wear, master?' she asked, with eyes darting along the range of garments.

'What makes you think you are going to wear one? Your master does not want to cover up his work of art,' he heavily spoke.

'Yes, master, thank you, master,' she dutifully said, with eyes lowered.

This evening, like always, she was supposed to practice her slave positions. Dressed like this it wouldn't be possible. It was a little upsetting to break the daily routine, but she had to follow her master's instructions, and would dutifully obey him.

Wearing an adult style sexy outfit was reassuring. She had learnt to be a pet-girl, such as a puppy, a bitch, or kitten. From simply crawling around on the floor, she had learnt to wear pet-girl outfits, and also have her limbs tied up. She remembered that some of the butt plug tails were tickly on her bottom and thighs.

More worrying was the training to be a whore. It was difficult looking for clues, and asking the right questions to tease out what a man wanted her to do. Would he want her to be Miss whiplash, and cane him? Or, would he want a damsel in distress, so he could be her hero? She would then have to offer her everything to him, as a reward.

The playacting was difficult, but she learnt it all as best she could. It was worrying that her master might sell her into a whore house, and that was frightening. It was obvious that he was preparing her for sale, though she would prefer to have just one master, as that would be easier to cope with.

Whatever might happen, she would be obedient and follow her master's commands, whoever it might be.

It seemed tonight she would be an exhibitionist. Showing off her new figure would be wonderful. Having men ogle her body, even her private parts, which were no longer private, would help her accept what she had become. More than anything it would please her master, to have other men admire her body, and that was enough to make her very happy.

Examining her skin, she was pleased to see the frequent use of skin creams had paid off. Her skin was soft and shiny. Her hair hadn't been cut since arriving here, only trimmed, and she swung it around her head, pleased with its shiny elegance.

'Yes, you are beautiful, my lovely slave-girl,' Harry told her.

'Thank you, master,' she beamed back at him.

Her heart gave a flutter, and felt so very full to overflowing with gratitude. Her master had made her into what she was, and that was magnificent. She was a perfectly obedient slave-girl, more than willing to anticipate her master's pleasure, and fulfil his every command. It was her only desire in life, to obey and serve her master.

***

They pulled into an unlit car park, behind a warehouse, in a derelict looking district of the city. Suzanne was scared, until looking at her master for reassurance. His smile wiped away the fear.

There was a small red light above a door, the only thing indicating life existed in this abandoned area. They walked toward it, with her master holding her steady on the high stiletto heels. His warmth and attention was overpowering, leaving her feeling as though she were floating toward the light.

He said something into an intercom, and a click heralded the opening of a door. They were inside a warehouse, with bare brick walls and floor. Her master pointed to a door, where a chain hung, and nothing else indicating what was behind the door. He expected her to enter, without comment or explanation. He turned his back on her and walked into another room.

Inside there was a woman behind a counter, where she was to deposit her coat. It was difficult unbuttoning it with trembling fingers. This was the first time a stranger had been included in her new life as a slave-girl. It was new and frightening, not just because of the woman, but she would be entering the unknown.

Her master had told her what colours to tell the woman, and she helped Suzanne buckle the slave collar around her neck. Before walking into the club she examined herself in a full length mirror.

A seam was straightened in the stockings, and she pulled at the bra, so her breasts were equally on show. Not wearing panties was a daunting prospect in such a club. She brushed her hair, and handed the brush back to the woman. In return a tissue was given her. Suzanne wiped her pussy. Being hairless down there meant everything was on show. It felt as though even her thoughts of sexual arousal were on show.

Taking a deep breath didn't help calm her, but she opened the door anyway, and walked into the club. Scanning the weirdly dressed people, it was difficult to find her master. This side of the door the club was sumptuously decorated. Thick soft carpets, modern signed paintings and prints on the walls, and comfortable sofas carefully placed, with cushions scattered around between them.

Her master waved for her to join him in a booth. He was sitting there casually sipping a cocktail, looking strong and sophisticated. Walking over to him without tripping on the high heels, was an art she had learned from hours of practice.

About to sit she noticed his scowl. Straightening up she took a moment to think, then noticed a slight movement of his shiny shoe, the ones she had polished earlier this evening. Bowing her head to her master, she sank down as elegantly as possible onto a cushion. At his feet she at with pride, on discovering she had the most impressive master in the club.

The dark blue suit was cut to fit, by the very best tailor. It was expensive, as were the shirt, cufflinks, tie, and handmade shoes. Suzanne couldn't help looking up to him with admiration, and adoration. This powerful man was her master. He owned her, and could do whatever he liked with her. As an object she was a commodity, and could be bought and sold as any man's whim directed.

A well trained slave-girl was an expensive object, and therefore would be cherished. With that in mind she had no fears as to her fate. Her excellent training meant she could serve any man, and would devote herself to his pleasure. It guaranteed she would never be mistreated.

'Slave-girl. You are wearing those colours on your collar for a reason. As far as the club is concerned you chose them when you asked for the collar. That means you will be expected to abide by the rules. The green means you can be touched, and the yellow means you will not be taken.' Harry explained.

The information sank in, for her to realise this was a test of her obedience. The men here were masters, and she was merely a slave, so she had to respect their demands. What if they became carried away and went too far? Would her master angrily abandon her, by selling her?

She didn't think of a previous life, or her husband's home any more. It was as though her past life had been wiped from memory. It was the here and now she had to cope with, and behaving herself appropriately had to be worked out.

A man walked over and greeted her master, not as a friend, just an acquaintance.

'Hi, Harry, how you doing?' Ben asked.

'Okay, and you? This is my new slave-girl. I haven't named her yet, but you can call her, Obi, as she is very obedient,' Harry said.

'Hi, Obi,' Ben said, and examined her nakedness.

Wearing stockings, suspender belt, bra, high heels, and nothing else, was more sexy than being naked. The underwear was white, virginal, which she definitely wasn't.

'Take her for a tour, this is the first time she'd been here,' Harry said.

The man was nice enough to help her up off the floor, but she was worried what he might do with her. After all, he was a master and she was a mere slave.

'This is, Ami, the very latest trained slave,' Ben introduced her to a couple of masters.

At their feet squatted slaves. The women were over fifty, and looked very smart. They were well versed in the art of slavery, and looked down at the floor, not including themselves in the conversation of their betters. They weren't as scantily clad as she was, which suited their full figures.

Seeing them gave Suzanne something to think about. It meant she could be kept a slave for another twenty years of more. Already forgetting the concept of freedom, in twenty years time she wouldn't understand it at all. it was reassuring to see these women were cherished by their masters.

'Are they real?' Freddy asked.

He crooked his finger at Suzanne and she squatted on her haunches before him. He massaged her breasts, feeling for implants.

'They are real, feel them,' Freddy told his friend.

The two strangers had mauled her breasts, and found them to be honest, and interesting. Suzanne didn't know whether to be pleased or not. Introduced to others at the club, she had to forebear their touching and fondling. Even her lips down there were pinched and pulled upon. Each of the men kept to the club rules and didn't insert anything inside her.

The women on the other hand, tested her out more vigorously. Fingers intruded to feel her teeth, and even delved inside looking for her g-spot. A dildo was pushed up her ass by one woman, interested in buggering her. Freddy tried to protect her, but he wasn't her real master, and neither did he have much sway with the mistresses.

The women were a tough bunch, and Suzanne hoped never to be sold to a mistress.

The evening was tough on her, but she learned another lesson. As a slave-girl she could be abused by anyone, and couldn't complain about it. Then or later. This was a test of her obedience, and at the same time she was being shown off for a later sale. The mistresses wanted to test drive her, but that was considered going too far.

Before being trained, Suzanne the dreary teacher would have been shocked by the very thought of going into a decedent club. Going anywhere half naked would have been a nightmare. She no longer had to think about moral issues, everything she did was decided for her, by her master.

***

'I'm proud of you slave-girl,' Harry told her. 'You coped splendidly. You didn't show me up by giving up, and running away. You let it all happen, knowing if they went too far, I would be there for you.'

'Thank you, master,' she automatically said.

As her face was lowered in supplication to her master, he could tell she had a pleasant smile upon her face. She had survived and behaved well, leaving him pleased with his slave. He was proud of his training techniques, rather than her abilities. All she had to do was comply with orders, and that was easy enough when brainwashed to obey.