Katy's Body Pt. 28

Chapter 28: the Dice Slave 3 - Katy's body is sold at a BDSM slave market.

*With thanks to my editor - Chris6160

Author's note

The guidelines for publishing photographic images on this site can be found as follows:

FAQ->Illustrated Works->Illustrated Stories Guidelines

They mean that (a) I can only submit my own photographs and (b) I can describe but not post photos of BDSM abuse, of sexual intercourse or of masturbation.

It was time to prepare a new adventure for my body so Claire came over for the next dice decision. My husband sat in on the discussion. There were some really exciting new ideas that had come up between us. The Folsom Street Fair was something that had aroused my interest over years. For those who have not heard of it before, it is an annual BDSM street fair in San Francisco on the last Sunday in September. I would love my nude body to be cuffed and pulled through the streets by a leash at the event, possibly with some public discipline. There were two drawbacks - the travel from Europe and that the end of September was months away.

A second, very appealing idea, was provided by my husband. A group of wealthy BDSM enthusiasts had bought a long-deserted village in a remote part of Italy for only a token price and had restored it. It had been restored to resemble a 19^th century Ottoman (Turkish) market square. They had modified former farm buildings nearby to provide a modern standard hotel. Another large building adjoined the square and had been converted to a harem house. Much of the time it was used to play with harems of slaves by the owning group but once a month they would stage a 19^th century style Ottoman slave market, open to the paying public. The main limitation in this case was cost. There would be no charge for my body to be sold for the evening (the organisers keeping the sale price) but the cost of the accommodation was exceedingly high. I very much liked the idea and thought the cost easily justified. Given recent history I was of the view that my husband should bear the cost.

The third idea had come from Claire. Apparently, some of her BDSM contacts were involved with occult religions. It sounded to me to be more for fun (a role-playing game) than for sincere religious beliefs. From time to time, they were looking for female submissives to act as "captives" for one of their monthly rituals. To appease their god of fertility they sacrificed a captive. The "sacrifice" to their god did not involve either death or permanent harm but would require naked humiliation and pain on the part of the captive. Some fucking might also be involved. I was again interested in and excited by this prospect. After discussion it was agreed that the real problem was the risk to my personal security. If this option were chosen by the dice, we would need some security. Part of any deal would have to be Claire and my husband attending as "observers" to guarantee my safety.

A further new idea was one of my many recurring fantasies. I imagined that a relative had fallen foul of a gangster for some reason and I offered my body to the gangster to be used in place of retribution on the relative. We were all agreed that it was far too dangerous to go around annoying a real gangster but it wouldn't be difficult to find a sadist to play the role convincingly.

To make up the six we agreed to add two options that had appeared in previous lists to be decided by dice. I liked the idea of being publicly chained naked for an evening in a bar and this was added at my insistence. The addition of the bukkake night again was simply the result of it being the one previously used option that nobody objected to. None of us were strongly in favour of it but none objected either. We also agreed that, if the Folsom Street Fair was selected by the die, we would obey the decision when the time came but run again with an alternative option so that we had an adventure that could be undertaken much sooner.

At the end of discussion, I had agreed the following six options:

1. An evening with my body naked and chained publicly in a bar.
2. My body being a "captive" in an occult-type sacrifice ceremony.
3. Bukkake night.
4. Paraded naked at Folsom Street Fair.
5. My body sold at a recreated Ottoman slave market.
6. A role-playing game in which a relative had fallen foul of a gangster and my body would be offered to the gangster for substitute retribution.

We had developed a small ritual during each dice session. I would strip naked and stand in front of Claire so that she could visualize each of the options being carried out on my body as she ran her hands over it. In advance of rolling the die I had no particular favourite. With the exception of the bukkake night (to which I had no objections) I would have liked to try all of them.

I cupped my hand around the die and rolled it. As usual the atmosphere was tense and excited, waiting for my body's next adventure to be decided. It settled on five. Both Claire and my husband whooped and clapped. Of the options it was probably just about my favourite but there were other options that I regretted the die not choosing. I was just greedy but, in particular, I would make sure that Folsom Street Fair appeared on at least one future list. This may sound as if I was disappointed. I was not. Being sold at a slave market was very sexy indeed and I would struggle to restrain my impatience.

Never one to delay in having my body exposed and abused, Claire was on the telephone to the organisers of the slave market immediately. It took several attempts to get through and the conversation was on speaker for my husband and me to hear. Initially there was a great deal of information, much of which we already knew. I had expected that any buyer would have use of my body for a significant period but it turned out that the sale would be for one evening only. The object was to keep slaves on display in the market for as long as possible. Buyers would be given several time slots to inspect the goods on sale but no binding sales could be agreed until 30 minutes before the market closing. That sounded almost perfect for me - a full day of exhibition and humiliation followed by an evening of abuse. These people knew their business.

Another surprise was that there was a selection process. The organisers were keen that only the best quality slaves were made available for sale. The first step was to send a fully clothed sexy photo by text. The photo below was sent. After 30 minutes we received a call back asking me to report for a personal naked inspection the next day at an address about 2 hours drive away. Claire would drive me there.

I decided to wear my thigh boots for the inspection. I thought them sexier than just a pair of high heels. I brought a coat to provide cover as I walked from the car to the house. At Claire's insistence I kept it open during the journey so that she could fondle my naked flesh when she so desired. This helped keep me in a state of arousal, useful for when it came time for inspection. If the need arose, I wanted any probing finger to find a moist pussy.

When we arrived, Claire was asked to wait outside and I was shown to the kitchen by a middle-aged man. I opened my coat so that my nude body was visible to him. He walked up and in one quick movement dropped the coat to the ground. I stood naked as he ran his hands over my tits and then my abdomen. He then ran a hand over each thigh and towards my pussy. A single finger was slipped inside. There was a grunt of approval when he discovered its wetness.

"Turn around. I want to see your ass."

Again, hands roamed over the curves of my rear. He turned my body to again face him then stood looking up and down.

"What an incredibly sexy body. Start planning your trip to Italy. You will receive a confirmation text with travel details."

I put on my coat and returned to the car. I find any hands-on inspection of my nude body sexy but this was too quick, too business-like for me to really savour. My body had been an object subject to a quick, impersonal quality check. The main point was that my body had been accepted for sale at the slave market and it was this that most aroused me. I could not help imagining my naked body stood there in the sun as a commodity for sale, to be viewed, groped and probed as a commodity - a lump of meat on sale for the sexual pleasure of a sadist.

On my return home there was much excitement and a flurry of activity. The next slave market was a matter of days away. My husband booked three rooms and three tickets. For a while he walked around with a sour face at the expense. I had no sympathy. The last auction of my body had provided him with plenty of financial resources. Choosing what to pack was surprisingly complex. I expected to not be wearing any clothes for the day of the market but, I presumed, would need something to wear the night before and for the return journey. My instincts were for a long dress on the return to cover what I imagined would be the inevitable red marks. Claire, quite appropriately, persuaded me that I should wear something skimpy and be proud of the red marks that would show my beaten body. Just in case, I packed for both eventualities.

On arrival at the hotel we checked in, not just with the hotel but with the organisation. Dinner would be in the hotel dining area - there was no alternative in such a remote area. Slaves to be sold were expected to be dressed provocatively but nudity was discouraged. We were expected to reserve our nude bodies to be inspected for sale at the market. Dinner was to be an occasion to encourage buyers to take a closer interest in the slaves that would soon be for sale. Mindful of this I chose a sexy outfit.

I thought that my outfit was easily sufficient to generate interest. At dinner I was clearly being ogled by a number of men and I could feel many eyes on my body. Separate tables in a large restaurant are not ideal for conversation but there were a few men who approached our table. Rather than speaking to me they asked my husband if my body was for sale the next day. He confirmed that it was and took pains to explain that my naked body would be available for inspection at the market all day.

The next morning, I reported back to the dining area for a briefing at 8:30. As instructed my body was wholly naked. There were no chairs so we all stood. A severe looking man wearing a 19^th century "oriental" costume - turban, long flowing robe and whip called for attention. I looked around at the faces above the assembled naked bodies. Some seemed anxious but others, like me, looked expectant and pleased to be there. Since we all were submissives we adopted an appropriate demeanour. Inside my head I was already incredibly turned on by what was about to happen. It was difficult to think of a sexier scenario.

"Our aim is to make this experience as sexy and as historically accurate as possible. In the days of the Ottoman empire Barbary pirates raided Europe around the Mediterranean and the Black Sea to capture slaves. Most would be put to work in North Africa or elsewhere but attractive young women would be taken to the slave markets in important cities to be sold as sex slaves. In some cases, impoverished Circassian families would sell their daughters into slavery. You should assume that you have been enslaved by one of these means and taken by an exceptionally long, slow journey to this place to be sold."

"Once at the slave market the pirates would sell their slaves to a specialist slave trader to be sold again at a profit. From the perspective of a slave the pirates and the slave traders would speak a language, Arabic, Turkish or similar, that they did not understand. You will not be able to understand either. Although they may speak to you, they would normally to use gestures or the whip to make you understand what they want. You will all be allocated to one of the slave traders who will prepare you for the market."

"Slaves were usually covered with a loose, slightly transparent cotton garment and chained together to be walked to the market. Once there your body will be kept naked and separately chained. Most buyers will also not speak your language and will expect the slave trader to make their wishes known to you, by whip if necessary. From your long journey to this place, you would already have discovered that you do not speak at all unless you are clear that you are required to do so. You do not make eye contact but keep you gaze lowered submissively. If you do not learn these lessons now then the whip will teach you. In reality slaves, by the time they reached market, would probably know no more than I have told you. You, as they would have done, will have had to work out the rest for yourselves."

All of this was simply delightfully sexy for me. I began to believe that I was now a slave in the Ottoman Empire, a fate that I was delighted to discover that my body so deeply desired. It was now an object to be used and abused by others as they pleased. I was impatient for my body to experience the humiliation and abuse.

From behind I felt a tug on my left arm. A harsh voice ordered "gelmek". A little puzzled I hesitated. This time the voice was not only harsher but more aggressive: "gelmek!" The tug on my arm was stronger, I was pulled into a corner. Without making eye contact I sneaked a quick look at him. He was dressed, as the other, in a turban with a long flowing gown. His face almost reminded me of a bird of prey - a sharp nose and a cruel, predatory face. There was little doubt - he must be the slave trader to whom my body had been allocated. He gestured to me to stay while he set off to gather other slaves. Gradually he accumulated a group of six in all. My head was in such a whirl of sexual excitement that I do not remember all of them individually or completely. I remember a pair of very muscular thighs, a tall, clumsy young woman and pair of big tits.

He was a couple of yards away from me. Again, I heard the harsh command: "gelmek". Confused, I did not react. The result was a sharp sting of pain across my abdomen from his whip. I moved without speaking and keeping my eyes lowered. I took up a position which clearly offered my body to him to do with as he pleased. He picked up a dress and gave it to me. There was no doubt that I was meant to put it on. It was made of thin, rough white cotton, obviously cheap and partially transparent. He attached a neck collar and cuffs to my ankles and wrists. My hands were cuffed behind my back and a chain of about 3 or 4 feet in length connected between each ankle. My body would now only be able to shuffle. I waited in this state while he similarly prepared the other slaves.

The neck collars had rings at the back as well as the front. He started with the girl with muscular thighs and used a length of chain to connect the back of her neck collar to the front of the collar of the next slave. In my turn I was chained to a slave in front and another behind. Finally, he attached a chain to the front of the first girl's collar and pulled. We slowly shuffled out of the hotel grounds onto the road outside. It was an unsurfaced, dusty, stony road. On either side were dilapidated buildings. The street was dusty, dirty and depressing. As we slowly shuffled along there were a number of young men who shouted what I presume was abuse. Several made pelvic thrusts and others made a circle with one hand in which they pushed a finger in and out. The taunts were clear - we were to be sold for fucking and our bodies were for the sexual pleasure of others. I could understand how dreadful this would have been for an unwilling slave but the humiliation of the taunting was sexy for me. I knew that my body would be sold for someone to use as they please. The difference was that I and the other consensual slaves here wanted it to happen - in my case passionately and desperately wanted it.

Finally, we made it to the market square. Again, it was unsurfaced, dirty, dusty and stony. On each side of the square were more buildings in a state of disrepair. It was possible to see inside some and they comprised dirt floors with sparse furnishings. I have no doubt that this was a realistic representation of a 19^th century slave market. Oddly to be sold as a sex object in such squalid surroundings not only made the experience feel more real but also increased the sexual humiliation. My worthless flesh would be exhibited and eventually sold not in luxury but as a commercial commodity in uncaring and delightfully squalid circumstances.

The slave trader took us to a spot covered by a very makeshift canopy. It was a tarpaulin tied at the back to the wall of the building and held at the front by a couple of crudely worked poles. At the front was a rail at about chest height with a number of hooks. One by one he undid the wrist cuffs of each slave, removed the nasty cotton dress, refastened the hands behind their backs and attached the chain on the neck collar to a hook. As I waited the other five slaves were attached, helpless and naked to the rail. My turn was slightly different. As my cotton robe was removed and my naked body exposed, he said something to me. I only caught one word: "seksual". My wrists were not refastened to each other but each to the end of a chain about two yards or so long. This chain was attached in the middle to a hook in the wall behind. This had the effect of making my body much more of a display.

I believed that I understood his thinking. He considered my body to be the sexiest of his slaves so he displayed it separately in a much more visible manner. To get to inspect my body they would need to pass the other slaves and this would give him the opportunity to try to sell some of the less popular ones. Finally, I was able to take stock. This was even better than I had hoped and imagined. In extremely believable circumstances my body was helpless and naked, waiting for buyers to inspect. It was certainly the sexiest moment in my career as a submissive for an exceptionally long time. The squalid conditions the burning, dry heat and the dust all convinced me of the desperate plight of my body and it was so very sexy for it to be abandoned to face it. The humiliation of my naked body being displayed in public and available for manual inspection was exquisitely sexy.

Whilst waiting for the first buyer to inspect my naked flesh I tried to fill out the gaps in my otherwise plausible story. In real life I have a much older brother. His wife, my sister-in-law is truly horrid - a nasty, grasping and quarrelsome old woman. She had always hated me and my sexiness. I imagined that I was a Circassian woman (a once independent country on the Black Sea between Georgia and Ukraine), drugged by my evil sister-in-law and sold into slavery. My imaginary character had by now come to terms with her fate during the long journey to market and realised that the best I could hope for was to find a prosperous buyer. In consequence I would do all I could to encourage a good purchase. This fantasy rather neatly tied into my real need to flaunt my body as much as possible whilst seeming submissive, Any "hands-on" inspection would reveal a very moist pussy and this should help somewhat in selling my body.