Cheryl's Passion Ch. 19

Yulia had been sold at auction the previous year for $35,000.00. She explained that some slaves can bring in even more than that at auction. The Vineyard took a cut of that to pay for their time and expenses as they organized the entire auction, paid for security, training etc., but even after they took their cut, Yulia still got most of that money for herself.

"I wasn't even doing it for the money," Cara explained, "I got fired from my job, and the only way my boss would agree to rehire me was if I agreed to sign a slave contract and be auctioned off as a slave."

Cara's story was unusual, so most of the conversation centered around her. She became something of a celebrity in our little social group, and we all resolved to try and stay in touch after we'd served out the remainder of our slave contracts.

* * *

Since we were to be sold, arrangements were made for potential buyers to visit and get a good look at us. The first time this happened. Cara and I were put in the display room along with a slave named Elizabeth. Iron cuffs were locked on our ankles and then chains were used to attached to the cuffs on one end and a heavy pedestal on the other. Our arms were bound in a box-tie, forcing our shoulders back and forcing our breasts to be thrust forward.

Potential buyers like to see us with our breasts thrust out like that.

"Well, this is better than the way we were bound the first time we were here," commented Cara.

I had to agree. The way we were bound before was painful. This was mild bondage by comparison, I felt gratitude that they were going so easy on us.

I was shocked throughout the day as potential bidders came in to examine us. A number of them were famous enough that I recognized them. There was a local weather girl, a news anchor from Channel 13 News, an actress from a popular Mexican soap opera, a fitness model/spokesperson for Sharp Fitness and a famous actress/model/producer.

"I had no idea so many celebrities were into the kinky slave and master stuff," I commented to Cara in between being examined.

"And lesbians," Cara added, "That lady from Channel 13 is engaged to that blonde guy who does that morning news show. She's keeping her sapphic tendencies a big secret."

"Apparently a bunch of celebrities lead secret lives," I agreed, "They seem so wholesome on television, but get them away from the TV cameras and-"

I never got a chance to finish my sentence. A familiar voice chimed in with authority and drown out my next words so that even I couldn't hear them.

"Well, well, and what have we here?" the familiar voice asked. I turned and froze. I hadn't seen her in almost six years, but I immediately recognized her. And it was extraordinarily humiliating for her to see me naked, tied up and on display for slave-buyers to examine.

"Good heavens, Cheryl! What are you doing here? And why are you naked?"

It was my Aunt Helen. I hadn't seen her since my Uncle Larry died. She had become withdrawn after my Uncle Larry's death, and nobody had seen or talked to her in years.

I hardly thought this would be the circumstances for a reunion between me and my aunt. And I felt overwhelmed with shame and a dishonor that I could never possibly live down.

"Aunt Helen," I gasped, "I am so embarrassed! It's an insanely complicated situation, but the main thing is-"

"Oh my God! Dear child! Have you signed a contract to be sold at the slave auction?"

I felt my face heat up with even more embarrassment than before and I timidly asked, "You know about the slave auction?"

"Dear child, of course I do!" my aunt exclaimed, "This will be the fifth slave auction I've attended since I became a card-carrying member of the Vineyard! But what about you? Does you mother know you're here?"

I had to admit that my mother had no idea I was receiving slave training or that I was scheduled to be sold at a slave auction. A lot had changed since the last time I had seen my aunt. I had developed a passion for being treated like one of those slaves from those Anne Rice sleeping beauty novels. I also had a lesbian girlfriend/mistress who encouraged my passions.

Apparently my Aunt Helen had changed a lot in the past five or six years. I was fairly certain that she had nothing to do with the BDSM lifestyle back when my Uncle Larry was alive.

There was some very awkward conversation as I brought my aunt up to date on the details that she'd missed since she'd seen me last. I blushed furiously as I explained, and I finally asked her if she could turn away and not look at me. It was one thing for total strangers ogled my naked body. It was far worse for my aunt to look at me that way. It felt like a sexual violation.

"Oh, but I have to look, dear," Aunt Helen explained to me, "I'll be bidding on slaves at the auction and I need to examine them up close while I still have the chance."

"Aunt Helen!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with outrage, "You're not going to bid on me! You can't!"

"Well, why not, dear child?" my aunt asked, "I'm a member of the Vineyard with full rights when it comes to the slave auctions. I can bid on any slave I want, and you really do look quite fetching."

"Aunt Helen!" I exclaimed even louder this time. I was a big fan of lesbian femdom, but there were certain lines that should never be crossed. And it seemed to me that keeping your niece as a naked slave was one of those lines!

"You're just upset that I've learned your little secret," my aunt said calmly, "It's a shock from which you'll recover. In the meantime, you're still a slave and I'm still a woman who has the ability to buy slaves, so remember to treat me with the proper deference."

"You can't buy me!" I snapped, "What would my mother say?"

My aunt reached for my defenseless breasts and her thumbs and forefingers grasped my nipples firmly. She lovingly stroked my nipples and then then kissed first one, then the other and replied, "How about we never mention this to your mother?"

I panted and felt a swirling rush of emotions. It was horribly embarrassing to be ogled and fondled by my aunt, however, I felt a dark, helpless sexual excitement at the same time. My heart pounded like a wild thing in my chest. The idea that I could become my aunt's naked slave made me feel more humiliated and helpless than ever before. At the same time, it also created a pulsing fire within my loins.

I panted, my chest heaved, and I felt feverish, however I agreed to my aunt's request.

"Okay, we'll never mention it to her," I said.

"So, we're in agreement," my aunt said, "Now I must get back to examining you. One should never bid on a slave without first examining her closely and in great detail.

My aunt then proceeded to touch me all over. She ran her hands up and down my shapely legs, even across the tender flesh where I still had visible whip marks. When I whimpered in pain, she took me in her arms, and kissed me passionately, her tongue swirling around in my mouth, her hands running up and down the curves of my buttocks. My ass was still tender from my recent whipping, but as I moaned and whimpered in pain, my aunt's tongue in my mouth muffled all the sounds I made.

I was breathing hard when we broke from the kiss, but my aunt continued to fondle my sore buttocks. She even squeezed them, assessing their firmness before prying them apart and examining the pink flesh of my asshole. Then she placed her hands on my abdomen, gliding her hands up and down, feeling the smoothness of my skin and the hard abs just underneath. Then her hands slid lower, and I groaned when she cupped my vulva in one hand.

"You're so smooth down here," my aunt commented as she fondled my bald pubes, "So pink and bare. Do you have it waxed?"

"Shaved," I replied.

"Waxing is much better," my aunt replied authoritatively, "It keeps the hair growing back for almost a month. If you're my slave, I'll make certain you get waxed before I give you back your freedom." I squirmed uncomfortably as my aunt caressed my pubic lips, making them swell and causing a soft, wet pulse in my sex. I felt a surge of guilt at that. I should not be getting sexually aroused from my aunt touching me, but I had no control over how my body responded to her mischievous hands.

Without thinking, I closed my thighs together. It was a reflexive thing, but my aunt wasn't having any of it. She cracked her hand three times powerfully across my already-sore ass cheeks and sharply commanded, "Get those legs apart!"

I gasped at my aunt's sudden outburst and quickly separated my legs. This instantly changed the dynamic between my aunt and myself. No longer was I her beloved relative, to be treated with the normal respect that an aunt gives her niece. I was a naked slave-girl to be objectified, used and punished if she didn't perform with perfect obedience.

I closed my eyes as the shameful reality of the situation dawned upon me, and then I felt my aunt's fingers brush my labia in a maddening fashion. And just as I felt that I had been humiliated as much as was humanly possible, my Aunt Helen inserted two fingers deep within my vagina and probed my moist interior.

"Aunt Helen! Please," I begged, but she wasn't listening. I squirmed as my sex throbbed with hungry spasms. I could not allow my aunt to finger me to orgasm! I would just die of shame, but as her fingers explored, poked, and teased, I found that I had no control over my body's responses. I moaned, panted, and squirmed as my aunt's fingers did magical things inside of me.

When Aunt Helen rubbed my swollen clit skillfully with her thumb, and I surrendered to the sensation. For the space of a few seconds, I forgot about the fact that she was my aunt and I just surrendered to the delicious sensations as I felt the orgasm building inside of me, building and building. My aunt kissed me passionately on the lips as the sexual tsunami inside my loins built in strength and then, just as I was about to explode in thunderous climax, my aunt withdrew her fingers from my pussy and seductively licked my juices from her fingers.

"Aunt Helen," I gasped and panted in sexual frustration, but she just smiled wickedly at me, showing no concern whatsoever for my distress.

"You're a slave now, dear," my aunt explained, "Your orgasms have to be rationed. Free women can have an orgasm whenever they want. Slaves can only have them if they can prove to their master or mistress that they've earned one. It encourages them to try harder and do more to please their overseers."

I whimpered and tears welled up in my eyes, but my aunt seemed to ignore my suffering and then she went to examine the other slaves while I stood there and sobbed.