Cheryl's Passion Ch. 21

It was the day of the auction, so they were exceptionally thorough. The handlers who shaved me made absolutely certain not to leave behind any stubble as they shaved my legs, my pubes and the rest of my body.

Other slaves were being groomed at the same time as me. Everywhere I looked in the shower room I saw myself surrounded by naked buttocks, vulvas, breasts, hard nipples, and erect cocks. The air in the room thrummed with sexual tension.

Once we were all thoroughly groomed and presentable, we were herded to a room backstage. A security guard in a sharp-looking uniform barked orders at us and organized us into something resembling a line. We were told not to touch each other as we waited backstage, however, conditions made that difficult. There were something like forty slaves backstage and we didn't have enough space for social distancing. Several times I found my chest pressed against the slave in front of me and a few times my buttocks felt the one behind brushing against my naked body.

Naked, backstage now with just a few steps more to go the stage itself, my courage faltered. I was gripped by a fluttery panic. My heart pounded. My throat felt parched. And I wasn't the only one. I caught sight of one slave whose eyes glistened with the sheen of welled up tears. Another was visibly trembling with the dread knowledge that she was about to be sold, as a slave, even if it would be for just two weeks.

A red-haired female was the first to be dragged onto the stage. She made a whimpering sound as she was grabbed by the arm and forced to stand next to the auctioneer. Bidding on her began at two-thousand dollars and went up rapidly. Lots of people in the audience were eager to purchase this redheaded slave and they bid against each other vigorously. She was sold off quickly, at an astonishing price. It all seemed like a blur.

One by one, naked slaves were marched onto the stage and put on display. The auctioneer engaged the audience by calling attention to their physical attributes, training, and sexual prowess. The slaves were forced to display their value by posing in a variety of lewd positions.

When slave number twelve sprinted gracefully onto the stage, I had to admire the enticing movements of her perfectly shaped ass, but after just a few seconds I was gripped with the fearful realization that Cara and I were next. I felt overwhelmed. There were at least two hundred people in that audience, and I was expected to go out on that stage, pose naked, make myself as desirable as possible, and allow, no, encourage, one of those people to buy me for the highest possible price.

My aunt had sworn that she would buy me. What would that be like, being a slave to Aunt Helen? I hoped that she got outbid. It would be awkward and embarrassing to be a slave to someone in my own family. How would I ever be able to look her in the eye after being her sex slave? I started to think I couldn't go through with it. I felt I had made a horrible mistake and I needed to go home. My heart pounded madly in my chest, and when the security guard ordered me out onto the stage, my legs froze. It seemed I was paralyzed and might faint.

Then the security guard smacked me hard on the ass and my training kicked in. I slipped into a mindless state and just followed orders without thinking about them. Mistress Faith was on the stage, and she told me where to stand.

Cara and I were both ordered to pose without covering up any parts of our anatomy. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment as a crowd of strange men and women ogled my naked body. It now seemed like there must be more than five hundred people in the audience. I recognized some celebrities in the audience: there was a local weather girl, a news anchor from channel 13 news, an actress from a popular Mexican soap opera, a Republican politician from Santa Barbara and a famous actress/model/producer.

Standing naked on the auction block was a shattering experience. I had been naked and exposed in front of strangers before, but this was different. I think it was the ritual that made it different. The air was thrumming with dark sexual tension, and I felt more sexually objectified than I'd ever felt in my life. An endless ocean of prurient faces ogled my bald pubes, my ass, every part of my body; it seemed as if everyone in California was there to objectify me.

It felt gloriously wild and slutty, to be so naked, so open, so lewdly displayed the way the auctioneer ordered me to present myself. I was gripped with feelings of terror and humiliation, painfully aware of how wide open my thighs were, how naked my body was, how vulnerable to abuse I was about to become. Then I caught sight of my aunt in the third row and my feelings of shame and helplessness increased fourfold. She shouldn't be out there watching her teenage niece being displayed naked and sold as a sex slave! She shouldn't even know about this auction! She certainly shouldn't be attempting to buy her own niece, for her own sexual entertainment!

The bitch of was, even though I felt agonizingly helpless, I was also aroused to a fever pitch. Being displayed naked and bid on by my own aunt was so kinky and wild, and so exciting! It was also obscenely degrading, shocking, scandalous, outrageous in a way which, for whatever reason, only served to make me more aroused.

I was so focused on my own personal fears and arousal that I didn't notice when Mistress Faith barked an order at me.

"Inspection Pose!" she snapped at me, again, and her voice sounded supremely threatening. Instantly, I tore my eyes away from the audience and stood with my legs spread far apart, hands behind the back of my neck, fingers intertwined, elbows pulled back, my chest thrust forward.

"Exposed pose!" she demanded, and I got on my knees. I knelt with my legs spread far apart, hands behind the back of my neck in proper slave position with my fingers intertwined, my elbows pulled back and my chest thrust forward.

"Punishment pose!" she called out next and I lowered my head to the ground and raised my ass up. The crowd cheered in approval. My ass was exposed and vulnerable, as if I were begging to be punished with a leather belt, a paddle or riding crop.

In this position most of my weight was resting on my knees, elbows, and forearms. My ankles were way up off the ground, almost as high as my buttocks. This is a pose that's difficult to hold for long periods of time, so I was grateful when Mistress Faith soon ordered me to assume another position.

As the auctioneer coaxed bids out of the audience, Mistress Faith ordered us to assume many different positions designed to show off different parts of our bodies. People seemed to bid more enthusiastically when Cara and I exhibited our bodies in such a way that our asses were on display, so Mistress Faith began ordering us into more poses that showed off our shapely backsides.

Then Cara and I were ordered to stand face to face with our breasts pressed against each other. It was awkward at first, performing such an intimate act with hundreds of prurient strangers watching, but Cara caught on quickly. She rubbed her front up against mine, making slow, delicate circles. The friction of her body against mine felt unexpectedly delicious. I closed my eyes and started to enjoy it.

I began to moan, and I leaned in to nuzzle the side of my face against Cara's. The auctioneer and the crowds of voyeuristic people seemed to just melt away, leaving Cara and me the only people in existence. The touch of her flesh against mine was delicious; I felt an urgent need for more. I gripped her buttocks with one hand and her upper body with the other. I pressed my naked body against hers more intently and I let out another moan as I savored the feel of her soft, smooth skin pressed up against mine.

That's when I was grabbed and spun around. My right arm was twisted behind my back by Mistress Faith and the auctioneer kicked my legs apart. I was jerked backwards, forcing me to thrust my breasts out, then Cara was ordered to kneel between my legs and lick the glistening, swollen folds of my pubic lips.

I whimpered as Cara pushed her face between my thighs. I gasped and jerked as she brushed her tongue insistently across my aching clit and began to rub it from side to side. I squirmed my hips in an obscene manner when Cara grabbed my buttocks with her hands and pulled my loins firmly forward.

She tongued my clitoris harder and harder. I shuddered and gasped as my hips rolled and bucked against that skilled tongue, and I felt my sexual heat soaring upwards as hundreds of well-dressed voyeurs watched intently.

Being forced to experience a boisterous orgasm with my legs splayed as wide as humanly possible enticed a plethora of bids, driving the price for Cara and me all the way up to $90,000.00. I panted and trembled. I felt overwhelmed with mortification and terror when I realized that my Aunt Helen was the winning bidder.

Cara and I were escorted off the stage and into a small, locked room to await transfer into my aunt's custody. The effects of the libidol had worn off by this point, so they bound our wrists behind our backs to keep us from playing with ourselves.

"This is disgraceful," I lamented bitterly. "Who keeps their niece as a naked sex slave?"

Cara eyed me with a look of concern and asked, "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do?" I shot back. "A forty-year-old woman buying her teenage niece at a slave auction may be shocking and gross, but it doesn't violate any of the auction house rules! I'm going to have to be my aunt's sex slave!"

My mother and my aunt Helen had a falling out some years ago. I don't know what caused it, but my aunt has been harboring a grudge against my mom for a long time and I know she's planning on getting even by keeping me as a naked captive and taking out her aggressions on me. I didn't do anything wrong, but I was going to be punished anyway, for something my mother did. I had become a whipping boy in the most classic sense of the word.

Or, whipping girl, I suppose.

After what seemed like forever, a couple of auction house employees unlocked the door and let us out. I was told that my aunt had paid the purchase price for Cara and me, in full, and they were there to load us into my aunt's car.

"We have instructions to gag you," one of the employees said as they stuffed a rubber ball that forced me to open my jaws uncomfortably wide into my mouth. Next they gagged Cara and then we were marched, naked, bound and gagged, down a long corridor to the parking garage. The concrete felt rough under my bare feet as we were herded over to a shiny new Mercedes Benz with the rear doors open. Since my wrists were bound behind me one of the employees had to help me get into the back seat, then she fastened my seatbelt around me.

My aunt was already in the driver's seat. She started the engine and drove us out of the parking garage and out onto the highway. Cara and I glanced at each other with horrified looks on our faces. We were naked and ball gagged. How would the other motorists react if they saw us through the window? Cara made panicky sounds around her gag, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

We cruised down the highway and into the suburbs. Several people stared out their windows and looked right at me, but I never saw the sort of startled reaction I was expecting. Eventually I realized that my aunt had tinted windows that kept people from seeing inside the car. I felt a surge of relief when I finally realized passersby couldn't see my naked boobs or the way the gag made me drool.

My aunt drove us into the Olympic Heights section of Fairhaven, the part where the rich people live. Aunt Helen and my mom have been estranged for a long time, so I'd never seen my aunt's home. I had no idea she could afford to live in a place like this.

In the wealthy section of Fairhaven, you don't just drive up to the front door. My aunt stopped at a 10-foot-tall gate, pushed a button on a little handheld intercom and told someone to open the gate. Once we'd driven past the gate it closed behind us.

Cara visibly panicked when she heard the gate clang shut and lock, and her panic was contagious. We were naked slaves, prisoners of a woman who had some sort of grudge against my mother. I felt a surge of terror as I considered all the painful things my Aunt Helen would do to me over the next fifteen days to try and get her revenge.

My aunt parked the car, and three women came out the main doors of the house. Two of them were slender women wearing maids' uniforms and one was heavyset, in a chef's coat.

The maids opened the rear doors of the Mercedes, undid our seatbelts, and helped us out of the car.

"Mmmff," Cara protested through her gag as the heavyset woman grabbed one of her breasts and proceeded to squeeze it and knead it roughly.

"That one is named Cara," my aunt told the stout, severe-faced woman. "Take her to the kitchen and treat her as you wish." With Cara gone, Aunt Helen turned her attention to me. She flashed a wicked look and introduced me to her maids.

"Eva, Melissa, this is my niece. For the next couple of weeks, we are going to be busy making her very unhappy."

There I stood, naked, handcuffed, and gagged in my aunt's driveway while her maids scrutinized me intently. The three women surrounded me, eying me like I was something delectable to eat. My feelings of helplessness and vulnerability were considerably amplified when I realized that anyone standing at the security gate would be able to get an eyeful of my steel-restrained nudity. It was unlikely that anyone would come along and press themselves against the gate, but I felt doubly naked and fearful for being so exposed.

My aunt turned to her servants.

"Would either of you like to cop a feel? My niece isn't permitted any sexual autonomy while she's my slave, so feel free to touch her all over."

The two maids glanced at each, uncertain how to respond to this invitation, then Eva took a step forward, reached out, and cupped one of my breasts. Her grip was tentative at first, but she soon warmed to her task and reached out her other hand, grasped both of my breasts, and kneaded them with great enthusiasm.

I moaned into my gag and trembled when she began to play with my nipples, then she turned to her employer and asked, "Is it okay if I feel her down below?"

My pubic lips were very visible, plump and glistening with moisture. I felt a sense of shame and humiliation that my aunt's maids could witness my state of obvious sexual arousal. The idea of one of her maids actually touching me down there, feeling how wet I had become, overwhelmed me. I wanted to turn and flee from this mortifying encounter, but where would I go? I was naked, bound, gagged, and the high iron fence and locked security gate meant there was no way for me to escape to the outside world.

"Of course," my aunt replied. "For now, she's just a naked sex slave. She's not permitted any modesty."

Then my aunt turned to me and snapped, "Cheryl! Spread your legs wider than that! I want my maids to have easy access to your pussy!"

It was one thing to be abused and objectified by wealthy, elegant women. But by a maid? By a menial servant?

It was a mortifying step down into an even lower level of degradation as I shifted my feet apart and left my swollen, pink labia exposed and vulnerable for the maid to touch.

The gag muffled my sounds of indignation as my aunt's servant slid her hand between my legs and cupped my pubic mound. She gave it a gentle squeeze, then proceeded to massage my pubic lips. My eyes widened. I moaned into my gag as I felt her rough fingertips stroking across my sex lips, touching my hard, sensitive clitoris.

"Mmmmmfffff!" I cried into the gag, but my aunt instructed her employee to ignore my sounds of distress and continue to touch my bald pubes for as long as it brought her joy.

"Your niece has a cute bottom," said the second maid as she stood behind me and overtly scrutinized my ass.

"Would you like to give it a squeeze?" my aunt asked. " For the next fifteen days, her body is yours to play with. You can fondle her firm buttocks to your heart's content."

"Actually, I think it would be more fun to spank her," the maid said. "She's used to that sort of thing, right?"

"Oh, yes. My niece has been spanked many times. By now she has a very high pain tolerance. But she should go over your lap if you're going to spank her. I suggest we go inside."

Eva grabbed me by one arm and Melissa grabbed me by the other. The two women escorted me forcefully into the house while my aunt walked in front of us, leading the three of us through the foyer and into the living room.

Melissa released her grip on my arm, made her way over to an upholstered ottoman, sat down, and motioned me to go across her knee.

At first, I just stared at her. My heart thudded disconcertingly fast in my chest. I felt a sense of fear and humiliation at the realization that I was going to be spanked by a mere maid while another maid, along with my aunt Helen, watched. It all seemed too mortifying to be true.

I protested inarticulately into my gag as Melissa grabbed me around the waist and hips and pulled me across her lap, with my ass way up in the air and my face nearly touching the floor. It was a very intimate posture to be punished in.

My anus and my bald pubic lips were indecently exposed. The thought of having the most intimate parts of my anatomy so lewdly on display for Aunt Helen's maids to gawk at made me squirm.

My aunt ordered me to stop squirming. Her voice was filled with strength, and I obeyed her without thinking. It was as if her voice robbed me of my free will and my body obeyed without first consulting with my brain.

My whole body tensed up. Then I felt the first stinging slap as Melissa spanked my poor, defenseless bottom.

It was an explosion of stinging pain. And the wicked servant quickly followed it up with a second and a third stinging spank across my vulnerable ass cheeks. I would have cried out in agony and distress, only the gag wedged deeply into my mouth muffled all sounds I might attempt.

There was a pause as the maid stopped to admire her handiwork. She'd never spanked anyone before, she said, and she was impressed with how rapidly my naked buttocks colored with her handprints, taking my shapely buttocks from pale flesh tones to an inflamed, red hue.

"She has a remarkably cute butt," Melissa added, "but the blush from the spanking enhances her beauty amazingly. It's like a neon sign, drawing your attention to her perfectly shaped curves."

I had gone limp across Melissa's lap, thinking the spanking was over, but without any warning she began to spank me again. I felt my ass growing hotter and hotter with pain, and the sound of her merciless hand smacking hard against my naked backside became louder and louder.

When she finally stopped for real, I was breathless and sobbing, my face soaking wet from the tears I'd shed. And even though my bottom was seething with red hot pain, the humiliation of being spanked by a menial servant while another menial servant got to watch had so humiliated me it was far worse than the physical pain I had endured.

My aunt complimented Melissa on the job she had done reddening my ass. Then she told her maids to lift me up and secure me in slave position facing her. They stood behind me and raised my shackled arms so high that my wrists were practically between my shoulder blades, then secured my wrist restraints to the back of my slave collar with a short length of chain.

My aunt was enjoying my plight far too much. And just when I felt my humbling defeat couldn't get any worse, Aunt Helen held up an expensive looking digital camera and took a picture of me.