Shannon and Sean Pt. 01

As she slowly turned, Shannon caught the occasional glimpse of a brown-skinned girl about her age wearing what Shannon always referred to as "a rag around her head." It took Shannon several dizzying turns before she recognized the girl as "Brownie", which was a play on whatever her actual, unpronounceable name was. Shannon never thought enough of Brownie to bother to tease her, as she hardly seemed worth the effort. Her conservative clothes made her enough of an outcast, and Shannon and her friends were content that the girl did not try to act like she was better than she was.

Shannon had heard the girl had gotten into MIT, which didn't surprise her, as she was in all the nerdy, brainiac geek classes. As she turned, she watched Brownie scoop a small bag of popcorn out of the popcorn machine and sit down at the bench, seemingly content to watch quietly as two of the school's whitest & most privileged, arrogant elite performed like sex monkeys for her viewing pleasure. Brownie munched her popcorn while Sean munched Shannon's rug.

Sean had heard from one of his friends that the girl watching from the bench had a crush on her, so when he saw her in the hall he always flashed her his most winning smile, just to see her die a little under the glow of his handsome athleticism. Much to his embarrassment, this girl he had teased but would never, ever date was staring intently at his erection as his sister licked and sucked him. CRACK! The girl on the bench giggled every time the whip cracked against his squirming ass, and Sean wasn't sure that his pride didn't hurt more than the red welt that had just been laid upon his exposed backside.

They both climaxed--not simultaneously, but within 30 seconds of each other. Shannon had to swallow rapidly to avoid drowning in spunk, and at the same time she flooded the face of her partner-whom-she-tried-not-to-identify. They both kept swirling their tongues around even when their bodies went rigid.

And then they both heard a smattering of applause. With his head buried between his sister's muscular thighs, Sean couldn't really see, but Shannon suddenly became aware that they had an audience of about 15 adults, all grinning and some of them looking envious. By this time, she thought she had lost the ability to blush, but she was wrong--she went beet red, and periodic announcements reminded everyone that she had just sucked off her own brother. In public! In fact, between the warm feelings in her groin and the flush on her face, her brain almost ran out of oxygen.

Fortunately for their sanity, a few moments later the rotating platform coasted to a stop and their grinning wranglers untied them, cuffed their hands again, and marched them away. Jerry-the-nerd was fully aware that the king and queen of the school, the golden child brother and sister, had just done a 69 on each other and cum in public; Shannon couldn't even meet his eyes as he guided her out of the gift shop with his hand firmly on her ass.

"Good idea, Becky," said Harold, absent-mindedly squeezing her butt when he looked at register receipts for the third-highest sales day in the Longhorn's history. Being mentally still deep in bimbo slut territory, Becky giggled happily while she wondered which sluts she should put on display tomorrow.

*****

The twins were so sticky from their efforts that Jerry and Willow ran them back through the Slut Wash again, with the two strung up opposite each other while the attendants gleefully fondled, penetrated, and flushed out their bodies. While the guys still enjoyed grabbing Shannon's boobs and goosing her magnificent butt, their victims were almost "fucked out," too tired from prolonged teasing and climaxing to react. Or perhaps they were just too humiliated to enjoy sexual attention any longer.

Shannon was so tired and subdued that, when she heard a pair of wrangler boots approaching her cage, she almost forgot to react, barely assuming "slave spread" in time to pose, submissively, for Master Jerry (he could never be Jerry-the-nerd again; today would always give him psychological supremacy whenever they met, even after she regained her freedom and her clothing.)

"I've got some good news, better news, and bad news, Shannon," Jerry said with a straight face. All she could do was murmur "Yes, Master," which thrilled him even more than all the opportunities he'd been given to feel her up. So he took pity on the broken cheerleader queen.

"OK, let me tell you: First, you don't have to go on the auction block. Your little performance in the gift shop produced a spirited informal bidding contest, and the two of you sold for a new high price for one-year slaves, $62,000."

"Thank God!" she muttered, unable to take another exhibition today. "I mean, thank you, Master." Damn, that word sounded good to him when it came off her once-conceited but now cock-sucking lips, lips that had sucked HIM yesterday and her own brother today. Who says there's no karma?

"Second, even though your new owner is entitled to have both your butts branded today, she's decided not to. Doesn't mean you won't get branded sometime this year, just not today."

"That's even better, Master," Shannon said and even smiled, realizing how much she had been dreading getting the "ass burn plus aspirin" that was the usual fate of Prime- and Choice-rated slaves. "So, what's the bad news, please?"

The gangling wrangler bent over and firmly squeezed her left breast, flicking the semi-erect nipple with his thumb. "The bad news is that both of you get your nipples pierced. I expect you to be brave and obedient, slut."

Her heart sank, but nipple rings were still better than a huge branding iron searing her tushy. At least she hoped they would hurt less and heal more quickly. For the past 18 years, she had lived in part off the profits of this market; now, she realized, she had finally contributed to its bottom line by putting her bottom (and the rest of her body) on that line. Knowing how much the market contributed to her lavish lifestyle, Shannon had always been a full-throated (ironic, huh?) supporter of slavery, and had argued that it was not only a necessary component in building a great civilization, but a benevolent institution that operated for the benefit of inferiors too stupid to properly care for themselves.

"If the girls had any brains or self-respect," she had said more than once, "they wouldn't be collared, naked, and on their knees sucking some stranger's dick. Better they learn to swallow, then make the job creators like me and my parents swallow a bunch of taxes supporting them."

Well, THAT had come back to bite, or rather choke, her, she thought wryly. Sigh. No sense arguing when you're a slave. "Yes, Master," she replied docilely, really making Jerry's day.

An hour later, two visibly pierced, ringed, and pained twins, hands again zip-tied behind them and regular dog collars replacing their shock devices, arrived at the shipping section near the loading dock. A close observer might have noticed a dribble of white stuff coming off the left end of Shannon's full lips, while Sean had a more generalized sheen of sticky wetness around his mouth and nose. Both Jerry and Willow, who were still escorting the new slaves, had pleased expressions on their faces.

In a rare moment of empathy, José the shipping clerk decided that these two teenagers had suffered enough for one day without him extracting the usual "service fee" by using their cuffed bodies. Which didn't mean they got away completely free. While José prepared their shipping papers, the 18-year-old twins were bent (gently, to avoid jarring their nipple rings) over the respective shipping cages. Then both of them got large, lubricated plugs thrust through their winking starfish, with a whispered explanation that they needed to stretch back there because they would soon have bulbous ponytails in the same places. That was the first time Shannon and Sean knew they were going to become ponies. Oh, joy.

Two minutes later, both of them had straddled the nearest pee grate to relieve themselves. Then, with a canvas gag in his/her mouth, each had crawled backwards into a wire dog cage where zip-ties secured their ankles to the back corners of the cage and their bound wrists to the center rear of their cage. They knelt uncomfortably on the hard trays at the bottom of their cages, praying that they wouldn't have to urinate before they reached their unknown destinations.

Five minutes after that, a forklift deposited their cages into the back of a panel van; twin electronic beeps indicated that the two helpless sluts had left the Longhorn's inventory, but their future was uncertain. Well, though Sean, Grandfather did want them to experience reality.

*****

(Interlude, Vice President's Office)

Mr. O'Brien's left eyebrow rose when Jesse Foster managed to tell him that his grandchildren had been on public display 69ing each other. This discussion occurred five minutes after the two men watched, on security cameras, as the twin poodle cages had been loaded into a panel van and driven away. Jesse had done his best to protect them while they were at the Long Horn--his wife had overseen the block training and kept an eye on the two as they were processed, but there was only so much he could do without making them stand out suspiciously from the other sluts. So he had to allow their display in the gift shop, where at least their faces were obscured by each other's bodies.

There was a long silence after Jesse finished his story, visibly embarrassed. Then the older man broke the silence: "Well, I did ask you not to show them any special treatment, just ensure they were treated like any other slaves. So I can't fault you for that. Besides, I suspect it would have cost me more to purchase them off the regular auction block than from that impromptu sale in the gift shop."

"So, what do you want the two of them to do at the Spinning Wheel?"

"I hope that Lois Spaulding will ride them hard and put them up wet," the older man said with a bark of laughter. "And if the Spinning Wheel doesn't knock them down a few pegs, I may have to try something else to bring them down to earth."

"I wouldn't worry, Mr. O'Brien," Jesse tried to be reassuring. "You can see for yourself that we've already given them a new outlook on life."

"Yeah; I hope it sticks."

(To be continued)