Dave Buys a Slave

Hi,

As a disclaimer, I don't condone the practices depicted in this story, as it is merely an act of fiction. However, feel free to leave constructive feedback. Without further ado, let's get started!

The intense ray of orange light pierced through the filthy window, though Dave was already lying awake in bed. Truthfully, he couldn't sleep much the night before. David Parker, better known as Dave, was far too excited for this day to catch much shuteye. Despite his tiredness, he was absolutely giddy to get out of bed and start his Saturday morning.

Dave jettisoned himself out of bed and scampered to his small kitchen. He opened the cabinet to grab his lone quart-pot and carefully measured out the exact volume of water he needed for his oatmeal using the only measuring cup he owned. He scooped out the precise quantity of oats from his 10-pound bag of rolled oats and poured it directly into the pot when the water came to a boil. After stirring for a few moments and then removing his breakfast from the heat, he then poured two scoops of protein powder, some ice cubes, a cup of frozen berries and a 1/3 cup of almonds into a blender and pressed down until the loud contraption yielded him a nutritious beverage. He opened his kitchen drawer and grabbed his lone spoon out and began to eat his oatmeal directly out of the still-warm pot as he sat on an upside-down plastic milk crate that he used as a complete dining room set; No need to dirty a bowl, thought Dave. After devouring the pot of oatmeal, he gulped down the protein shake and scarfed down his last remaining banana just as quickly.

After devouring the makeshift meal with an impressive speed, he hopped in the shower. He jumped into the curtain-less shower stall and turned the hard-water-covered knob until lukewarm water pelted his body. He reached for the single bar of soap on the shower wall to lather himself up with. It was easy to feel around for, as Dave kept nothing else in the shower stall; buying hair care products was for suckers. After a quick rinse, he hopped out. He dried himself off with the single, decades old towel that he owned; sure, it was thread bare in some spots, but it wicked moisture off his body just the same, so Dave didn't care at all. Dave then opened up the crusty bathroom mirror; therein contained all of the toiletries he needed; off-brand floss and toothpaste, a single toothbrush, a sole disposable razor and one stick of generic deodorant. The rest of the shelving laid bare. He finished his hygiene routine in less than three minutes.

He traversed the whole three steps from his shower to his bedroom and opened his wardrobe. The closet revealed a Zuckerburg-esque fashion choice: plain gray shirts, white collared shirts, blue jeans, or beige khakis; that's all a man really needs Dave rationalized to himself. Today was a special day though; so he opted for the white collared shirt and khakis. Only the best for today, Dave thought to himself.

Dave then gleefully skipped out to his 10-year-old hatchback. He had put many miles on it over the years since he bought it cash, but that made the car all the more endearing to him. Despite his career successes over the last few years, he refused to needlessly upgrade his car, even if the defroster didn't work; after all, who the hell is too high-and-mighty to use the windshield scraper on the inside of the car?

Dave worked the typical Monday through Friday corporate grind. He was a technical writer, authoring all sorts of step-by-step procedures and user manuals for all sorts of equipment. His job was nothing to particularly brag about; nobody at parties ever thought he was all that interesting (in the rare event that he was actually invited to a party). However, he had a skill that many others lacked and were willing to pay through the nose for, and he knew the market forces were on his side. Thus, Dave lived in a small apartment commuting distance away from the MegaCorp that he worked for; there was no need to pay a premium for rent.

He had been diligently saving up and investing the difference from his lofty salary and living expenses, and his investment portfolio was certainly bearing fruit. Dave was in his late twenties, and ever since he graduated college with his STEM degree, he had been investing nearly a third of every paycheck into the S&P 500. The market had been on an incredibly historic bull run, not even the global pandemic in 2020 and the inflation that followed could slow the market down. Hence, Dave was on solid financial footing. He felt comfortable about the five-figure transaction that he was about to make; after all, it was only going to be a small percentage of his overall net worth. Today, Dave was going down to the auction house. He wasn't going there to buy himself furniture or a TV. No, Dave was going there to buy himself a sex slave.

Dave drove 37 miles per hour past the sign that read Speed Limit 25; Dave normally wasn't a speed demon but today was a special day, a day he was looking forward to for a while now; he'd always wanted to own a sex slave, and today was his chance to finally fulfill his wish. He was in a state of nirvana as he mentally glanced over what allowed this to happen in the first place.

The United States, like many other developed nations, had long been experiencing a decline in the birth rate. This is not as uncommon as it sounds, typically as nations industrialize and modernize, women tend to have fewer children. However, women in the US had nearly stopped having babies altogether for a myriad of reasons. Sure, there were purely economical reasons; rising rents and daycare costs for most of the first two decades of the 21^st century were certainly a factor. However, that wasn't the sole explanation, far from it. A uniquely American brand of feminism called The Third Wave had gripped the nation during those early years, and many women simply opted out of family planning altogether.

This predictably had some consequences, and it scared demographers, politicians, economists and other knowledgeable people in power. Chronically low birth rates can stagnate an economy for decades, as had happened to Japan starting in the 1990's. Moreover, less babies means less eventual men to serve in the military, law enforcement, government jobs and other essential services. Fewer babies also meant less future R&D scientists, thus hampering the United States' ability to stay ahead of the pack. And those fewer people will then go on to produce fewer people; before you know it, the problem has spiraled out of control. Demographics is a mighty double-edged sword, indeed.

Historically, the United States had made up the difference in birth rates by accepting more immigrants. However, starting in the late 2000's, anti-immigrant fervor had also taken hold in the United States. Eventually, as the 21^st century wore on, more extremist Republicans began winning elections nationwide. Soon, they built up a super-majority in the House and Senate, thus meaning that they could effectively push through whatever agenda they wanted. First, their platform was to simply build a wall on the Mexican border. However, policy creep occurred and these hard-line conservatives started pushing for, and winning, other broad immigration victories. Eventually, in the 2040's, the Republican's managed to close off the United States to nearly all types of immigration, including asylum and refugee seekers. Essentially, if a foreigner was hoping to come to the United States, they better have had a one-of-a-kind skill or they needed to be a star baseball player if they hoped to stay.

Thus, with no more immigration to make up the difference, American women needed to have more babies. The 2022 Supreme Court reversal on the Roe v. Wade case was only the start for the Republican party in accomplishing this goal. Next, tax rates started to rise for women between the ages of 18 and 40 that claimed no dependents on their tax return, in an effort to prod women into having more children. However, this still wasn't enough of a prompt, as birth rates still didn't climb high enough to replacement levels. Thus, the conservative party passed even more aggressive laws; eventually they passed a law allowing women to be enslaved for crimes instead of prison; the Supreme Court upheld this as the centuries-old 13^th amendment already had language that supported this notion. Since many women claimed careerism was their reason for not birthing more babies, laws were passed that women of child-bearing age could be enslaved if they were unemployed or not in education/job-training for more than 90 consecutive days.

Dave pulled into the auction house, which was really just a boathouse near the dock of the coastal city he lived 45 minutes outside of. He parked his hatchback close to the boathouse, today being indifferent to the slightly higher parking fees; nothing could bring him down today. Dave entered the auction house and paid the entry fee. The auction houses charged entry fees as it was common at first to show up and not buy for a variety of reasons; some wanted to merely gawk, others got cold feet at the last second; whatever the case may be, the auctioneers wanted to screen for serious buyers only, and hence a high-enough entry fee served as an effective filter. Dave plunked down the price of admission, and was happy to do so; he was more than serious about buying today.

On his way towards the main hall of the auction house laid the merchandise for pre-auction viewing. This hallway had several human-sized bird cages that were padlocked from the outside. Inside each birdcage was a naked woman for sale. Each specimen sported a metal collar with a chain anchored to the floor, handcuffs securing their hands behind their backs, open-toed high heels, and a ballgag. Save for these pieces of hardware, they were otherwise completely naked. Each woman for sale also had a sign in front of them on the wall of the birdcage that stated their starting bid. Dave perused the merchandise as if he were a kid in a candy store. The foot traffic of the potential buyers huddling around any given birdcage served as a great proxy for how popular a given slave girl was, and hence how high her final price would wind up being. Dave surveyed the crowd almost as much as he surveyed the collared women.

Dave had always been attracted to the girl next door type and that's what he was hoping to come home with today. He found one that had particularly caught his eye and was in his price range; Number 14362. She was a short Caucasian female, with strawberry red hair, and had her left arm sleeved with black-ink tattoos. She had various black-ink dove tattoos on the left side of her rib cage, a string of floral tattoos strung just across her collarbone, again, solely in black ink. While she wasn't supermodel thin at her roughly 130 pounds on her five-foot-three frame, her C-cup breasts and supple-enough ass more than made up for it. She also had brown eyes, a softly rounded jawline and a cute button nose. Dave looked the woman up and down and their eyes met for a moment that seemed to last forever; This one Dave thought, I want this one.

Dave watched with anticipation the other offerings on that day get sold. He wanted to get a feel for the temperature of the room, metaphorically speaking. Number 3647 was led out onto the stage by her leash. She was a tall, thin, Caucasian brunette with a sleeve tattoo on her right arm, as well as numerous tattoos on her rib cage, a tribal tattoo on her lower back circa 1996 and a shooting star right above her vagina. Most notably, she sported a pair of breast implants that were seemingly installed in a developing nation, as evidenced by the jarring-yet-faded vertical scars on her nipples. Number 3647 also had a flat ass, which further juxtaposed her inhuman bust. Nah, not my type Dave thought, thought he was still keen to observe the bidding process for its own sake.

The auctioneer read a brief description of her file. "Number 3647, a former lingerie model and saleswoman who was chronically unemployed. 24 years old, tested negative on the STD panel within the last 48 hours" the auctioneer threw out the facts on her file. "This sale will come with a slave starter kit, full documentation dossier, and a 30-day moneyback guarantee. Let's start the bidding off at $1000!" Dave paid close attention, as this was double the starting bid for Number 14362.

"$1500!" quipped one audience member.

"$2500" yelled another. Alas, a bidding war broke out. Utter verbal pandemonium broke out, bidders seemingly came out of the woodwork in hopes of landing the brunette bombshell. Soon the price for 3647 jumped to $10,000.

Bidding seemed to slow down considerably after that, it seems that once the price hit five figures, most men had to secure financing to cover the transaction, and many were simply unable or unwilling to do that. The auction house had a financing arm, though they charged extortionately high interest rates. Personal loans from banks were hard to secure as most men kept sex slaves for personal use, and hence they had little money-making opportunities. Thus, as an investment, many of these purchases would be poor decisions for the bank. After all, it would be unwise to put up capital on something that is unlikely to ever generate income. Truly investment grade slave girls were bought by brothels, porn studios, modeling agencies, strip clubs, and the like. Those clients typically didn't buy from public auctions nor rely on bank loans. Hence, buying a sex slave was for those with adequate cash on hand.

The price for Number 3647 slowly creaked along to $11,500 before the gavel finally came down. "Sold! To the gentleman in the black blazer" proclaimed the auctioneer. Her eyes were welling up throughout the bidding process, however she was full-on-balling as soon as she realized that her fate was now sealed. An auction house employee tugged on her leash forcefully to move her off stage so that the next piece of merchandise can be auctioned. Number 3647's legs were visibly trembling, though her new owner rocked an ear-to-ear smile as he fist-bumped and high-fived his fellow bidders as he walked towards the back office to sign the transfer of ownership paperwork. The man's face was red with pure excitement.

Dave quickly figured out a strategy. He was initially going to come in with a bid that was far over the original price. He was going to start a bidding war intentionally. He wanted to drive the price up high enough to weed out his competitors. Also, since many considered 14362 to be less attractive than the previous slave girl, as evidenced by the lack of foot traffic near her birdcage before the bidding, Dave figured that he'd only need to part ways with about $7000 to secure his new redheaded fucktoy. After all, many of the men here looking for a trophy wife despite being on a ribbon budget.

"Next up, Number 14362" the auctioneer proclaimed. An auction house employee led the short redhead onto the stage for all to see. "23 years old, former barista, tested negative on the STD panel within the last 48 hours." The auctioneer read off her file. "As always, this sale will come with a slave starter kit, full documentation dossier, and a 30-day moneyback guarantee. Let's start the bidding off at $500."

Dave's palms became sweaty and his heart race quickened, It's game time Dave thought to himself. "$550" yelled Dave.

"$550 to the man in the white button-up" noted the auctioneer.

"$600" chirped another bidder.

"$620" cried another bidder.

"$675" chimed one more buyer.

This was going slower than Dave expected. Time to weed out the peanut gallery, Dave thought. He belted "$2200"; an audible gasp followed. The audible gasp from the crowd confirmed Dave's suspicions as the auction hall grew silent for a lingering moment. Even Number 14362's eyes dilated a bit. She knew that the man in the white button-up shirt would more than likely be her new master.

"$2200 to the man in the white button up" called the auctioneer. "Going once" he scanned the room before calling out again "$2200 going twice"

A sheepish young man stuttered "Uh, tw-twentty tw-two f-fity", Dave couldn't tell if the man had an actual speech impediment or was just overcome with nerves. Either way, Dave was going to own Number 14362, come hell or high water.

"$2750" called out Dave, with a confidence that instilled trepidation into the hearts of the other men in the room. Again, the room fell silent this time. However, this silence was more of the careful calculation type rather than the did he really just say that? variety. The many bidders were hoping to come home with a centerfold, and didn't want to get into a bidding war over a girl next door.

Dave didn't care what type of silence it was; silence means an absence of new bids. "$2750 to the man going once" the auctioneer broadcasted. "$2750 going twice" the auctioneer surveyed the room once more, aiming to give the audience one last chance to throw down their dollars. He could tell by the faces of his audience that nobody else was going to pipe up. "Sold for $2750 to the man in the white button up!" The auctioneer banged his gavel to make it official.

Number 14362's lower back, chest and forehead now glistened with a cold sweat. Her legs started visibly trembling as she realized that her fate was now officially sealed. One auction house handler grabbed her leash and tugged her off stage, out of sight to the rest of the public audience. A few forceful yanks on the leash from the man suddenly encouraged her legs to start cooperating again, stumbly as her steps may have been.

The auctioneer called out to Dave. "Sir, please come on back to finish transfer of ownership paperwork". Dave gleefully stood up as he was ushered by an auction house employee. I got her for nearly $4000 below what I thought I'd have to spend! Dave counted his victory. Dave knew he got a boner-ific slave woman for an absolute steal, and he was on Cloud Nine. Dave was soon led into a finance manager's office.

The office was a dimly lit cave. It featured a low-hanging over head light, reminiscent of an old police interrogation movie scene, a government-issued steel desk, and a few metal chairs whose upholstery was fraying. "Congratulations on your purchase!" The paunchy, middle-aged man offered. Dave soon heard the heavy breathing and the clacking of high heels on the hard flooring get progressively louder and louder. His freshly purchased slave girl was approaching, and Dave was nearly salivating already. Soon enough, the auction house employee from the stage entered, with Number 14362 in tow. He padlocked the end of the leash to a eye-loop secured to the side of the finance manager's desk. The finance manager nodded as if to say Leave us, the employee nodded back and obliged, leaving a set of keys on the corner of the steel desk on his way out. This left Dave, his new acquisition and the finance manager alone in the office.

"As the auctioneer mentioned, your purchase comes with a slave starter kit, so let's go over the contents" the finance manager started. He picked up a large cardboard box from the corner of his office and put it on the desk. He reached into the box and grabs a large bundle of dark red rope. "First, your kit comes with bondage rope. It's designed to not leave marks or rope burns on skin yet will remain tied. It's also waterproof.

That will come in handy Dave thought to himself.

"Next up" the finance manager continued as he pulled what looked like a metallic looking croissant out of the care package "is her electronic slave collar". "On the back, it features a magnetic lock that is password protected, so only you can unlock it. The collar is capable of delivering electric shocks of varying voltage. On the accompanying smartphone app, it has a scale of one through ten. The in-built battery is designed to last for five years." Number 14362's eye's widened as she visibly shuttered at the notion of such an invention. "The ring on the front is so that you can clip a leash onto her, and this device is also water proof to a depth of 150 meters." Dave nodded as his mind started picturing all the fun that he was going to have in his future.