Black Slave Auction Ch. 04

The next day I awake and prepare my mind for the tasks that Shara will have for me and the instructions that I will receive from Master. I'm still confused about why I'm here and what I will get out of it. So far things have changed by the hour and there is no set schedule. In my old life, there was always a set schedule. So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours. I can barely contain myself in this house. I feel like I'm never alone in this house. The only time I'm truly alone is when I'm asleep. Even then green eyes haunt my dream and find myself waking up sweating.

Its early morning and I'm in Master's house, upstairs, nude, and being inspected by Shara. She says I need to eat more, but I've always been this size. I know that most women have bought in to the ideals of the media, but I just bought into how healthy I feel as myself. Shara isn't much bigger than me and I wonder if it is Master who has said I need to eat more. For a moment, I think about wanting to please him even if that means gaining a few extra pounds.

"Master requests your presence for lunch," she says slightly annoyed. Her hands go to my hair and she is practically yanking it from its roots. She tells me that Master prefers my hair straight and she applies every skill necessary to keep it that way. Her hair is a long straight line down her back which is a mixture of all the different heritages that make her.

I imagine a young Shara being friends with a young Renee. We would both never fathom a world where white men would create a plantation out of thin air and control young black women. We would play on swings in a yard and never think for a moment that we would be oppressing ourselves to be someone else's fantasy.

I'm beginning to read Shara's mood more often. She is jealous and I wonder if she would be just as jealous as little Shara. I don't know what she has to be jealous of, she is beautiful. Not only is she beautiful, but she was here first. Shara is well-built with a slender waist which is accented by her height. She practically towers over a small woman like me. Her eyes are light hazel, but still urban in shape. She isn't busty, but her ample hips make up for it. She is shaped like the typical black woman in Hollywood and she has a Hollywood personality to match. She even dresses nice which I believe is the luxury of being able to dress herself. I wonder if over time I'll have more freedom.

"Why did you come here?" I ask slowly.

"The same reason we all do," she responds, "we search for something."

Shara touches me lightly on the arm causing a parallel of goose pimples along my arm. Fingertips brush against my collar bone and for a moment I think about looking up at her. I can't look at her though. There is something about her chastise touch that makes me not want to look at her. I wonder if there is something there. I wonder if there is an offer of her friendship or is there something more. I'm imagining things surely. I'm so desperate for some form of human connection, that it has circumvented sexuality. I have been thinking about what I might be pushed to do next. I take a deep breath at the thought.

She's right in more than one way. I came for answers, but in the process my search has been expanded from a reporter's curiosities, to a woman's curiosities. I'm a black woman pretending to be a slave but the line of pretending is blurring. Sometimes I feel like I should run for the hills, but other times I find myself enjoying the sensations. Master's brother in another world could even be considered charmingly dangerous. I've always been attracted to the bad boys and Michael is as bad as they come.

Master's brother Michael, had watched me in a very intimate moment. He had motivated me on to let him inside my brain instead of my body. There was something there in the way that he watched me and didn't once move to touch me. When I was on the edge of cumming, I found myself wanting him to touch me. I had touched myself feeling the skin within me moisten and swell to my fingers. The fact that he watched me had become reflective. He was the mirror to my inner most feelings and emotions. Exploding over my own fingers, I had thought of him replacing them with his own. I had cum for him. I could do what he asked for ever. I get wet just thinking of the moments with him.

Sure, he is dangerous, but I liked him in a way. I think every girl has some form of attraction to danger. I liked the way his hand barely brushed my hip as I jarred them into position. He had a way with emptiness as he fills it with himself. I think of him filling me with himself. I could feel myself becoming a maddening animal hoping to cum all over my spent fingertips just one more time for him before he traveled off to some nameless war. My muscled flexed and I had to muffle and exasperated sound with my other hand. He remained silent next to me, but he never took his eyes off of me. His silence was louder than any noise I've ever heard. He had the ability to become sight and sound all rolled into one.

"Are you ready?" Shara asks bringing me back through space and time. I stare past her and into the mirror behind her. Her standing behind me in the mirror says so much, I am eclipsing her. I am eclipsing myself.

I look at the black doll in the mirror staring back at me. I am no longer the tom boy that excelled in the male world and relished on being better than all the boys at their sports. My painted lips and curled hair is something out of a magazine. Confusion crosses my face for a millisecond. I feel the most pretty as someone else's reflection of what I should look like.

"I'm ready," I announce following her from the room.

The house is bigger than it seemed when walking up. Most of it is colored in white walls and gray floors. There is something boring about the house even though it is slightly shrouded in darkness. I don't see Michael or the kid from yesterday. There is a woman singing down the hall who I assume is the wife. If they ever have me picking cotton, then I'm running far away.

Shara has noticed me as I notice all the things surrounding me, but she doesn't say anything. She never says anything when it is relevant. She seems like the perfect lackey as she never questions, but always manages to make a stand in one direction or the other. I wonder what she was like before this life, she hasn't given much up. She is smart enough to have had a career and pretty enough to have someone at home waiting for her.

I follow her walking in stride behind her confident walk. She knows the house really well which surprises me unless she has signed on for multiple months in this house. I know that once my month is up, I'm heading home never to be heard from again. Shara on the other hand, seems at home here. We head down stairs to what is a circular well-lit room off to the corner of the house. Shara opens the wooden doors and steps aside so I can take a good look inside.

"Come in Renee," Master beckons me. He stands juxtaposed against the daylight in all his glorious darkness. His suit is black and a little dusty from whatever he was doing before out impromptu lunch date.

He stands poised on his cane across the stark white room next to a pale white couch. Lunch they told me, but I see no meal in site. I guess I'm to be Master's meal, the perfect food to compliment his hungry appetite.

The room is completely empty except for the looming mountain of a man and the placid couch. Shara exits as I enter. She doesn't look at me and I make a conscious decision not to look at her. She never even greets her Master as she leaves the room. Instead, all of the attention is placed where it needs to be placed, on Master. He stares at me like a piece of meat.

"I'm going to ask you a question," Master's voice booms, "and you have one chance to answer honestly."

I hold my breath. I imagine that the jig is up and that he knows that I'm a reporter. I imagine that I'll have to leave long before I learn anyone's identity or motivations. I imagine so many things and yet I don't even begin to fathom what he is thinking.

"Did my brother see you yesterday?" He asks me and I'm surprised that I hadn't seen it coming. Perhaps this was all a test and I had failed miserably.

I pale. I mull over my answers, but eventually I admit my defeat. If it is a test than there is nothing I can do about it now but be honest. I have to be honest in order to make it through the next few minutes and if I'm lucky the next few days. I have put myself on the line and I refuse to have done this and not dig up something. I can't go home empty handed. I refuse to go home empty handed. I slap on my most innocent looking face and walk closer to him. He will do what he wants, that I'm sure of. All I can do is submit to his desires and hope that it is enough.

"Lean over the couch," he tells me.

I hesitate but his tone beckons me onwards. I remind myself that it is just a month of my life for the story of the century. I could possibly win a noble prize or at the very least hit the talk show circuit.

I lean over the placid couch with my dark brown ass up in the air. Sweat pools at the center of my back and the anticipation causes a tremble down my legs. I hear the deep shuffle of footsteps as he comes behind me. He stops and I can practically feel his stare barreling in to me. His hands fall to my doll-like dress. Without compassion he yanks it up revealing my lack of panties. He moans pleased by my lack of underclothes. He seems to be particularly sensitive to me when I do what he commands.

"Did he touch you?" His tone is sullen as he asks.

There is something almost child-like in his disapproval over my emotions. I wouldn't be the first woman in history to fall for a man despite his appearance.

"No," I admit, "not really."

He doesn't seem satisfied by my answer.

"Not really," he says as his hand slaps my ass, "or no? Those are two different things."

I feel my palms begin to sweat against the fabric of the white couch. I am barely able to hold myself up as I think through the answers in my head. He had touched me, but he hadn't really touched me.

"Barely," I say stinging from the pain of his slap.

"Barely?" Master seems more complacent with the answer. I nod my head in response as he runs his hand up my leg.

"Did he touch you here?" His palm slides over the heat brewing on my behind. His soothing white hand is placed ever so delicately over my reddening black ass.

"No," I shudder.

"Here>" His hand reaches between my thighs rubbing against my moistening mound. I can feel his fingers just outside of my woman hood. I'm oddly excited and scared at the same time.

"No," I say gagging on the word.

"He is devious", he says slapping me harder this time," stay away from him."

He highlights each of the last four words with a slap. Heat barrels through me. I know that his brother is dangerous, but so is he. This whole place is a dangerous mass of boiled feelings and wanting.

"Kneel," he instructs.

"You my dear peak my curiosity," he says with the same slimy tone he used the first day we met. I don't know how I've allowed him to be peaked by me but in a way it makes things easier.

Masters stands before me with the weight of his eyes pressing me to the ground. I look up at him and find the bridge of his nose both long and blunt. His eyes are the only saving grace of his weathered face. Those eyes pierce where normal eyes would just stare.

"Are you married?" He shocks me with such a personal question as I'm standing in such a vulnerable position.

"No," I respond truthfully.

Marriage to me is just a piece of paper. Two people can love each other and never get married. I had dated my editor for a few months a couple of years ago. He had said I wasn't very feminine. Now he is dating a girl from Alaska and they are awaiting their first child.

"Do you have kids?" He asks another personal question.

"No," I answer.

I think about his boy staring at us from the stairwell. He is taking me out of the place I'm accustomed to. I think of a black woman with kids at home coming here and searching for something.

"I'm glad I bought you." He says with a smile, "now suck me."

Jolted back to reality I undo his zipper and his member flops before me. I'm learning how he likes it, and it is bound to go quick from the way he instantly gets hard. He is sensitive on the head of his fat cock and I suckle it wantonly. Closing my eyes I'm able to imagine that he is mine and I'm his. This grotesque man with his fat cock was young once and his green eyes surely held life. I suck him in deeper now. He moans. I wonder, where did he live as a child? What changes him into this fictional character? I tremble at the thought of getting to know him as his hands fall to my hair. It is such an intimate touch, fingers in a black woman's hair. I open my eyes and his are open to as he inquisitively stares back at me. He throbs between my thick lips. Pulsating and starting to pump against my small pink tongue. I know he is going to cum.

"I won't share you," he says and I nod my head in agreement.

He lifts me to my feet. His arms engulf me as his tobacco coated breath. This kiss is a moment of pure ecstasy as his hand caresses my naked lower back. I've never been kissed so all encompassing as Master is kissing me right now. His eyes close and I follow suit. His tongue caresses my lip and I part them wanting him to push his tongue further. His cock is at full attention as he holds me so I'm straddling his waist.

He enters me in one quick motion which is possible because of the wetness seeping from my chocolate pussy.

"I need you," he moans against my hair.

I have to admit that I need him too. I need his want of me as he pushes deeper and deeper into me. He is not holding back and I don't want him to because his thickness is filling me. His thickness is hitting the back and the sides of me like I have no walls to hold him. I'm elastic beneath him. His fingers mark along my skin as he scratches down my arm. The pain just adds to my pleasure and I can just feel the orgasm building within. I just want to release, but every time I get close he shifts and I can't cum. I think he is playing with me on purpose. His smile suggests that he knows just how edge I am.

"Please," I beg for him to let me cum.

He pushes deeper than he has already been and I feel it. I can feel him in my stomach. He is not relenting as he wades into my tight walls. I can't hold on much longer. He is burning me with his deep eyes. It is like he is begging me to cum with his eyes and I want to give it to him. I release. I cum all over us both and the water expelling from me shocks us both equally.

"Did you just squirt?" He seems shocked and turned on at the same time. He starts to pump faster and faster until he is cumming just outside my swollen cunt and down my leg. I don't know who the slave is now. I don't know if I want to know. There is so much power in being wanted.

"You can't leave me," he says exasperated. I nod my head in agreement, but it isn't the whole truth.

I see another truth. There are another set of green eyes that wants me. What will I write about on my return? Will I damn these men and their interest in me? Will I try and explain Shara in a few lines on a cold computer screen? Yes, I search for something, but when I find it will I know what it is?