Bought or Rescued? Pt. 02

Somehow fighting to stop my orgasm made it ten times more intense, and it was my turn to scream in pleasure. They both sniggered at my helpless bound orgasm, "Sweetie, I think you made your little slut very happy; pity for her she didn't know that when you asked her to Senior Prom."

They switched ends so I could clean Luke and get him stiff again. I felt something cold and wet on my anus before Alice pushed a finger inside me. She poured more lube and then pushed two fingers and rotated them around.

"Slut, you are so tight back here; I'm guessing you must be an anal virgin. Is that right?"

"Yes, Mistress, I've never had anything in my back passage."

"Great! I get to take your anal cherry while pounding my anger at how you treated Luke into your defenceless derrière."

I would have yelped when she pushed her lubed strap-on hard into my arse and got it fully buried in three shoves, but my mouth was full of Luke's cock. I was surprised when she gave me a minute to get used to the strap-on before she started to slowly fuck me.

After a couple of minutes of this slow sensual fucking, the pain was gone, and the woozy feeling was starting to feel nice. I was confused as she'd threatened to pound me hard but I was seriously enjoying it.

"Alice, I'd much rather be in your beautiful body than this slut's. Come here."

They started kissing and making out while I lay there helpless with sticky cum dripping down my leg. They stripped and moved onto the mattress as they started exploring each other's bodies. Before long, Alice had Luke stiff again, and they made me watch as they fucked each other to orgasm.

Alice grinned at me, "Slut-7289, that is what making love looks like, and you will never again experience it. You are just a sex slave for citizens to get pleasure and discard you."

Luke got up and told me to clean him again. He unstrapped me and told me to lie down so I could clean out Alice. She straddled my mouth and moved slowly while I licked all Luke's cum out of her. She stroked my hair while she did it; I wondered if she'd finally remembered our friendship.

They told me to remain on the mattress while they showered. When they came back, the clock in the room said 4:45. I still had over an hour of this to endure. What would Alice and Luke think when Sara came for me? Would Sara come for me? Had I been tricked, and I was a slave for longer? I panicked.

"Slut-7298, you need to shower, wash your hair, and clean out your pussy, ready for when Phil comes over. When you are ready come upstairs."

I feared being humiliatingly fucked by Phil who was on the macho side and a jock.

I was emotionally spent by the time I was done cleaning myself up. The basement clock showed just after 5:15 pm. I would have to endure another 45 minutes of being fucked by someone who only yesterday had been my friend.

I came upstairs and was shocked to see Sara standing there with my bag of clothes. "Hi, Sweetie, time's up; get dressed; we are having a special dinner together. We're having one of your favourite dishes; I brought your favourite wine."

I looked at the sitting room clock; it said 6:15. The basement one had been deliberately set wrong. The dissonance between Sara's demeanour and what I had just experienced was beyond my comprehension.

I slapped her face and screamed, "I fucking hate you. You have ruined my entire life, destroyed all my friendships, and now I have no one. Give me my cell and wallet. I'm Uber'ing home right now. We are done; I'll never see you again."

To my utter surprise, it was Slut-1817 who came to the rescue, "Heather, deep breaths." I wondered how she knew my name.

"You've just experienced the most intense BDSM session you've ever had; you did brilliantly; this was all a drama production we staged to help you. Alice wrote the initial script, and then the two of us revised it to make it as authentic as possible to give you the experiences you needed."

I looked at her in disbelief.

"Because you want to be a slave vet, we made the script much more intense than what Alice had envisaged so you would understand more of the trauma slaves go through first-hand and be better equipped to help slaves in your career. Sara had to approve everything that happened."

"If you all knew I was a 24-hour FINO, why did you destroy my friendships with the group?"

Alice showed me Telegram, "no photos or videos were ever posted. No one knows. When you thought Phil had seen them and was coming to join in, that was just Sara playing her part of the script."

Luke and Alice both showed me their phones' galleries, "Look. No photos or videos of you either. We used a secure wipe program to ensure no one could ever recover them."

I sat on the floor in shock unable to process what I was feeling..

Slut-1817 and Slut-2934 came over and cuddled me.

"Heather, our names are Lucy and Fiona. Our owners don't call us sluts; that was for you to get used to being called slut during grading. We only eat slave kibble at other people's houses. That was bought just for you to know what it's like to be fed like a slave. The rest of the bag will be donated to a charity shelter for sick slaves who would otherwise be euthanised. We also don't sleep in crates when we are here; we have a shared bedroom in the attic. The crates were for you to get an authentic experience. We are fortunate that April and Brian and unusually kind owners."

I was feeling so confused and sniffled, "I love you guys."

Alice was about to join them in comforting me, but Sara asked her to hold off, "Only Fiona and Lucy really know what she's experiencing. We have no idea, mercifully."

Eventually, they made room for Alice, "we all put this drama on for you because Sara said it could save you from a lot of pain. Luke and I are terrified you'll never forgive us even though we did it for you."

"Alice, I'd been seriously thinking about suicide when I got home tonight because I thought I'd lost all my friends and could never show face in town again. I know where Jeff keeps his gun and ammunition, it would only take a minute, and no one would have realised what I was doing."

There were sharp intakes of breath from around the room. Alice hugged me tightly until I melted and then scooped me off the floor, "you are still naked. Get dressed, girlfriend, then dinner."

I looked at her, "Dinner? Seriously?"

"Yes, Sweetie, everyone here needs aftercare. The point of aftercare is to reassure everyone the session is over and re-establish normality. It is vital we all dine together, get back to how we were before relating as friends."

"I sniffled again and turned to Luke's parents, "May Fiona and Lucy join us at the table for dinner too. I owe them."

Over dinner, I told them how Sara had warned me of everything that would happen, including the photos and someone I knew seeing me nude. But being locked in a glorified dog crate for the night made me think I really was a slave. Everything became too real to keep my focus on why I was there.

There was one question I had to ask. I turned to Brian fearful of the answer I'd be getting.

"When you said I was useless as a slut and not trainable, was that real or was that part of the script?"

Lucy answered for him, "That was scripted. Sara told us you'd never failed at anything in your life and was concerned about how you'd react to a slave wrangler telling you were worthless. I provided the text based on things I heard wranglers say while preparing for my own auction.

After dinner, as Sara and I were leaving, I turned to Luke and Alice, "I understand how hard this was for you two. I'm seriously impressed by your acting skills." Alice grinned, "well apart from calling you Heather when I was lost in an orgasm."

Alice admitted that letting her boyfriend fuck his High School sweetheart while she watched was probably the most painful thing she'd ever done. They did it because they thought it would be easier for me afterwards if everyone involved was someone I trusted to keep my secrets.

"It will be weird seeing you in the summer knowing you both fucked me, and I went down on you both." Alice whispered in my ear, "this summer, we'll steal an afternoon together, and I will return the favour." I giggled; those were the magic words I most wanted to hear.

***

I signed a temporary power of attorney giving Sara authority over my body, knowing she would make the most of it.

When she picked me up from my dorm, she was wearing black dress shoes, black slacks, a white man's shirt, a black jacket, and a thin black tie inside the shirt neck rather than around the collar. Her hair was slicked back and gelled. There are few dykes who could carry that look the way she did.

When we got to Yale, she grinned as she ordered me to strip in public, standing in the car park. She'd been to the pet store to get a new collar and leash for the occasion. They were hot pink and studded with rhinestones; the metal tag said, 'Sara's Slutty Slave Snatch.'

She led me slave-naked, collared, and leashed to sign in while calling me every degrading name she could think to get me hot-to-trot.

The Northern states have laws to prevent abuse of grading to sell someone as a slave, but it still scared me because I was technically a slave and under slave discipline, for the hours I was signed in.

You must convince the slave graders you are a shameless cock-hungry whore to get a high grade. Unlike in the south, Yale allowed my girlfriend to stay with me through the whole process as I waited for the appraisal and my turn on the block. She spent all the time allowed kneeling and licking my pussy or kissing me and tweaking my nipples. She kept me constantly simmering.

She kept whispering how hot I looked slave naked. She said she would auction me so she could buy me and become my owner. She told me in graphic detail how as soon as she owned me, she would mercilessly ravish her slave cunt with her biggest, blackest, most deeply ribbed strap-on. I was moaning and whimpering with how aroused she made me.

By the time I got to the appraisal, I'd already had three orgasms and was hot and needy. Yale prevents the public from attending slave grading, but I still was held spread-eagled, naked, and devoxed in a frame for an hour. To get through it, I imagined myself as a sensual Peter Rubens painting hanging on the wall of the Louvre while tourists gawped at my voluptuous body.

Of course, the difference between grading and the Louvre was that the slave merchants felt me up, squeezed my butt and boobs, rubbed my clit, fingered my pussy, and talked about me like a broodmare. I noticed they spent longer on my appraisal than on anyone else.

OK, not a museum; maybe I was an exhibit at an adults-only petting zoo -- that thought made me even wetter.

Between the fear, the humiliation of being fingered by a couple of dozen unknown men, and my girlfriend's earlier licking, I was panting and dripping wet by the time I got to the auction block. The auctioneer ran me through my slave positions for the mock auction as I yelled out slave mantras to the watching graders. I alternated the mantras between Mistress and Master.

I didn't escape without a couple of female wranglers demanding oral service. They'd seen me with Sara and deduced I was a Lesbian and probably a skilled cunt-eater. I left them both with satisfied smiles.

When Sara collected me, she led me to her car, still naked and leashed. She was jubilant but refused to tell me my slave grade. She said I had to ride home to Boston still slave naked and collared if I wanted the results.

Apart from a few trucks blowing their horns as we sped by, it was fine till we stopped at a MA Turnpike tollbooth and a creepy older man leered right at me through the open driver's side window. My evil girlfriend played along and started stroking my thighs and telling him how lucky she was to fuck such a hot slave cunt every night. I simultaneously died of shame and creamed myself. All I could do was submissively moan, "yes, Mistress."

That evening she took me out to an expensive restaurant and proclaimed her love for me and how excited she was to be fucking one of the very rare Prime-Plus girls. I'd always been told I was beautiful, but I was shocked: fewer than 0.1% of girls get the top grade.

Getting the top grade terrified my parents because it meant I would spend four years in a slave state with a body worth over a million bucks on the slave market. They made me have a secret tracker implanted by the John Newton Society and drilled me on what to do if I was enslaved.

***

At Texas A&M, I wanted to fit in and avoid notice, so I became a proud Aggie, going to tailgates and supporting the football team. Due to my slave grade and sexual orientation, which were publicly listed in the school directory, I was soon swamped by girls flirting and invites for dates.

I felt a huge void with Sara gone and rapidly hooked up with Anita, who was the antithesis of my previous partner. She was a horny gym bunny who wanted to be fucked as much as she wanted to fuck.

After dinner on my first evening at Anita's parents' house, we started to help clear the table. Anita's dad stopped us. "Sweetie, you two spent the entire meal looking like you want to tear each other's clothes off and make out like bunny rabbits. Go shower together and have at it. Your mom and I will clear up."

Anita pretended to be shocked at her dad's crude comment, but I could see she loved it. I giggled like a schoolgirl as we held hands and raced upstairs. In record time, we shucked our clothes and melded into a wild, writhing mélange of soapy arms, legs, torsos, boobs, and butts.

We soapily lavished attention on every inch of each other's bodies before I put a foot up on the corner stool for Anita to finger fuck me as we kissed deep into each other's mouths. I have no idea how I stayed upright. I was so excited to be naked with her away from the dorm that every muscle in my body seemed to lose control and have a mind of its own.

As a quiet Yankee, I'm not normally a screamer, but she repeatedly made me scream her name with pleasure. She refused to withdraw her fingers from my rapidly over-sensitising clit despite my begging as successive orgasms rolled over me.

She only stopped after my legs gave way from sheer orgasmic exhaustion. I tried to kneel up to lick her pussy but collapsed in giggles as my legs refused to work. She smirked shamelessly at having reduced me to a helpless orgasmic puddle.

When she eventually managed to dry me off. She led me, still naked, to her queen-sized bed and sat down on the side. I knelt reverentially between her legs, picked up her left foot and started kissing her sole.

I swirled my tongue around it several times before sucking each toe and doing the same with her other foot. She leaned forward to caress my head, so I started fellating her big toe as lasciviously as I could while keeping eye contact with her.

I kissed worshipfully up the inside of each thigh until she held my head harder and whimpered, "please."

I kissed and licked around the outside of her labia till her hips started moving, then sucked her outer lips, followed by her inner lips like they were the tastiest treat in the world; I was moaning with how sweet she tasted.

I'd read in Cosmopolitan that you could lick the alphabet up the centre of a girl's slit to keep the sensations varied. I tried that, but she stopped me, "I need a steady rhythm."

I lapped up her centre in time with her hips thrusting until she whispered, "inside me."

I slid two fingers in and out in time with my lapping. She loved the skills Slut-1817 had taught me. As her hips started thrusting against me more passionately, I increased the speed and pressure of my lapping and finger teasing.

Only when she started whimpering and thrusting hard against my hand did I relent and curl into her G-spot and flick her clit with the tip of my tongue. She came a minute later and left my face with a silly grin and wet as a Krispy Kreme doughnut.

We'd often used a double-ended dildo to scissor, but she'd bought a new one for the weekend that had a central ring with two clit vibrators mounted facing outwards, 90 degrees apart. She buried one end in her snatch till the clit touched; she grabbed her cellphone and set it to low intensity. I slid down the other end till we were scissoring.

I'd worried the clit vibrators would stop the feeling of my pussy being kissed by her pussy lips; I loved that sensation so much. I needn't have worried; it buried into my slit, leaving my lips to get the wonderful sensation of two sets of dripping wet labia grinding on each other. Anita turned up the offset clit rings to high. We ground slowly and sensually while cumming repeatedly from the vibrators.

I'd told you she liked to be fucked as much as fuck. We finished the night with a Tracy Cox vibrating feeldoe. I ordered her to slave fours (face down on knees and elbows with ass high and knees wide like a bitch begging to be mounted) and fucked her doggy style while reaching around to make circles around her clit.

When I could feel we were both nearing our climaxes, I rolled her over and slid my cock back inside her so we could kiss while we came. That was the one thing I most missed with a double-ended dildo.

After kissing for what felt like forever, we were wonderfully exhausted and curled up naked to sleep.

You may be wondering why I'm telling you all this. The answer is that I was truly happy with Anita, and to let you know how hard it was for me to take the risk I took.

***

It was the final year rotation on slave pregnancy that was my undoing. They removed two female slaves' contraceptive implants and put them on rutting stands with the pony boys each night. In Texas, watching pony boys rut slaves is a spectator sport: beer and loaded fries were served to any students who wanted to watch. As each was confirmed to be pregnant, they were transferred to our care.

One slave was allowed to come to term so we could deliver the baby boy. We separated him from his mother without her even seeing him. We supervised the process of getting the original birth certificate issued in the names of an infertile couple on the school's staff, listing them as biological parents.

The other slave was a shy girl enslaved for seven years for non-payment of a medical bill her insurance company unexpectedly declined to pay. Ten days before her due date, we were ordered to give her a late-term abortion to avoid the school's legal responsibility for a free citizen child born to a slave on its inventory.

I saw the panic and fear in her eyes from knowing her child would be killed. She tried to beg, but they simply devoxed her. I made eye contact and remembered my promise to Lucy and Fiona. I couldn't and wouldn't kill her baby. I broke in late that night, freed her, removed her tracking chip (thanks to my human vet training), and passed her via Anita's parents to the underground railroad.

I thought I'd gotten away with it. Four days later, one of my friends texted me that two slave Marshals were on campus looking for me. I remembered my training, texted my parent's burner phone, started my phone's secure wipe, and threw it in a trash can. I didn't have time to run before the Marshals spotted me. And that's when the nightmare started.

***

It's hard to describe the terror of being apprehended by slave Marshals. I was tasered, stripped naked, shock-collared, gagged, and put in transport restraints. My wrists were strapped tight to a wide leather waist belt connected to a hobble chain on my ankles. I was naked with no way to cover my private parts while a growing group of jeering students gathered around me and started groping any part of my body they could reach.

Anyone who's been a student in the old confederacy has heard people say, 'Yankees Suck,' or maybe seen it on a tee-shirt. They weren't referring to the baseball team. While chanting, 'Yankee Cunts Suck Southern Cock,' several boys I knew from class whipped it out. They hoped the Marshals would make me suck their cocks right then and there.