I traveled to New York after many years of avoiding the city. Too many bad memories kept me from it, and I truly had little reason to visit. As the Airbus rumbled through the skies approaching La Guardia I checked my seat belt and thought of the last time I had been in the city and how it teemed with life and energy and all the possibilities that you can only find in cities like New York, Hong Kong, London, Frankfurt, Zurich, Mexico City, Rio, Sao Pablo, or Buenos Aires. All the cities I had visited and or lived in throughout my life.
As the captain lowered the landing gear and the drag slowed down the plane, so did my mind. I had not noticed how it was racing and come to think of it, it had been racing since Jim called me and told me of the auction three weeks ago. It was a part of life I seldom shared with other outside my wife and some online friends. But it was real to me and it was part of where my heart belonged.
Many years ago I had transitioned from the normal American male who is fairly politically correct, children, wife, home and job to the way I was brought up where Men not by meanspiritedness ran their homes, but by the power of being the Man of the family who protected all, who lived up to his own expectations, and took his rightful place at the lead of the family. Many call it a lifestyle within the boundaries of BDSM, but in reality it is more about Manhood than it is about the bondage, domination, sadism and masochism that is typically associated with BDSM.
My wife and I had talked about her submissive nature since we met, and it blossomed as I took my place at the head of the home. As time passed we moved from D/s life to a truer deeper calling but one that is far more difficult to find in real life; the life of Gorean's as defined in John Norman's books; where honesty and respect lead to honor; where actions have consequences and you have to own up to them whether good or bad.
The year after I learned about Gor and the lifestyle I had drinks with Jim during one of his business trips through my city: we talked deep into the night. Jim, it turns out, had been a part of the secret societies within the BDSM communities and had connections I did not know existed. We laughed at how our lives had developed on similar paths, yet both of us had kept it from the other till two full pitchers of martinis were consumed.
The wheels touched the ground and we had the typical landing bounce and settled to the slowing down process after touchdown. The thrust reversers were opened and the engines revved up to the point where you were pushed forward, the pilot took the first exit from the runway and we taxied to the gate. I noticed enough to take out my Treo and type in two quick messages.
The first to my wife: "Hon, I just landed, the auction is later this afternoon, are you still sure about this?"
The second to Jim: "Jim, just landed in La Guardia, heading for the meeting point in Flushing at the pizza place on Main Street; order the pizza!"
As I hit send on the second message I received the simple but thorough reply from my wife: "Yes, Sir. Thank You."
I sat in the seat waiting for everyone to stand up, and I felt deep pride in my submissive, and my wife, both the same woman. She wore my collar since the day she begged it. Many things have changed, but her devotion and her submission never change. I grabbed my carry on and headed off the plane, headed for the Hertz counter, got my keys and drove to Flushing; where Jim awaited.
"Are you sure about this?" asked Jim as I entered the pizza place and smelled the most wonderful aroma in the world, New York style deep dish Sicilian pizza. Chicago, eat your heart out.
I shook his hand firmly, "Yes Jim, I am sure and I have the money in my pocket, so I'm going through this."
"You know, that when the legal papers are signed, the new law makes it possible for two consenting adults to enter into a legally binding contract where one will own the other; irreversibly." He looked seriously into my eyes; the look was the same as it was at his father's funeral, and then many years later at my father's funeral; it was one of formality and certainty.
"I know Jim, and we've talked about it since your call three weeks ago and we know what it will mean to truly own a slave, legally and completely. We are financially ready for it, the home is too big for just the two of us, and we are ready to move to the next step." I said to him in what was a far stronger tone than I meant, but one that was true from deep within me.
"Well then, eat up, because the review kennels open in an hour and the auction is at eight tonight." He said grabbing a big square of pizza with cheese stringing down and the perfect pepperoni on top. It really is all about the simplicity of a pizza that makes it the best.
My mind wandered the rest of the meal with idle chat from time to time, but I was focused on the idea of picking a Gorean slave girl. I wanted to feel the lust and the desire so natural when looking at a completely naked girl in a collar, one who knows her very fait is in your hands. This was not the Marketplace of the books, this was a secret covert law that only those who knew where it was, how it was written, and how to bring it up should a court ruling be required could fall within it one hundred percent and be totally protected by the law. This law was in place in one hundred percent of the western world and had come from the Asian side of the world only as recently as 1972 during the Nixon era and was passed into law during the Carter Administration in 1978. Consensual slavery was legal, and completely binding on the slave who had to wear the brand of a slave once the contract was signed. The slave had the rights of an animal of the human species, but nothing more; the full extent of property rights extended to the Owner and over the slave. Once the contract was signed, the slave no longer possessed the right to argue the case on their behalf. Just like a house or a dog has no right to dispute the Title of Ownership.
We walked to the kennels in the warehouse district. I kept thinking about the ramifications of owning a human being and realizing that once I signed it was all over for that person, I held title to them. We approached a heavy overhead door with two guards preventing unwanted entrance.
"Turn around and leave if you have no business here!" said the one guard. His town was not threatening, it was not angry, but it was completely serious. One quickly understood that the next action would have a consequence.
"I am Jim of Hoboken, and this is Tom of Kansas City, we have business inside." he responded and continued to walk with intent towards the man door on the side of the overhead.
"Enter then, and let the consequences fall upon you. Shop well." Said the other guard as he opened the door for us and stepped out of the way.
We walked a few feet into the hall, and turned left. There was a mural of a native scene with three menacing moons overhead with the saying "Enter ye of true strength, let the rest stand by and watch their own demise."
I looked at it and realized how true that statement was. Years ago I had sought the truth in my life, and today may be the day where I start the journey to that truth. We walked down the hall and through a dark stained door made of heavy oak. We moved through it and saw the entrance to the examination kennel.
"Ok, you're on your own. I'm going to go register you in the legal docket so you will meet all the requirements of the law. By the way, give me your money so that I can get you a bid ticket." Said Jim and I handed him the money and into the kennel I went.
Blonds, brunettes, redheads were all around. There were Asians with jet black hair, not a curl on it, and satin soft. There were small framed girls, and large framed girls as well as tall girls and short girls one to each cage. There was a section for girls who were trained and another for those who were not trained but wished to serve. There were sections for girls with enhanced bodies, and for those who were all natural. There were girls from all over the United States and the rest of the world. This was a true slave market, but it had one huge difference; it was totally consensual till the girl signed the slave intent document in front of five legal witnesses from five different states or countries.
This market, and this law, had the highest potential for ending the underworlds hold in the slave market and the supply of slave meat was far better even though it took a girl a full eighteen months to surrender title to herself. No one was forced, the law made sure of it, but the girls lined up and the men I was told did too. Slavers of this style were now springing up all over the major cities of the world and slave meat was now easy to find; if you knew the right people.
I walked up to a lovely Asian slut who looked into my eyes and I heard, for the first time in my life the words I had read for years and thought were only imaginings of John Norman; "Buy me, Master and let me please you" said the girl with the deepest darkest eyes I had ever seen. Her flesh was the color of mocha chocolate lightened by the whitest of cream complexions. The skin was satin soft and glowed with the oils of preparation. Her feminine scent filled the area around her and engulfed me in her heated pleasure. My body reacted lustfully to the slut and I enjoyed reading her enslavement resume.
I walked away saying nothing, but the errection took care of letting the little slut know she had an impact on me.
There was a lovely tall girl of almost six foot, with a plump round ass and long auburn hair, her enhanced breast and her resume showed that at one time she had been in the entertainment business. She was a lovely dancer and her sensual Nadu pose, hazel eyes downcast in such a way as to pull you into her made her a delicious morsel. To own that slut would be nights of heaven and days of pleasure.
I walked some more down the kennels enjoying the blond with the tight belly and sexy ass who begged.
"Buy me, Master I will pleasure you and your wife long into the night and I will keep your home during the day, if you will but tie me to the foot of your bed at night." The girl knew her slavery and she was branded so she was being sold for at least her second time.
I kept walking looking for the girls I would bid upon. I turned the corner and found a new row of slaves, it said on the listing these were slaves from the state of Florida. I walked down enjoying the perfectly tanned bodies so deliciously oiled and ready.
I walked down to the end and turned around finding that there was a special scent in this area. I took a deep breath and one of the girls reached out of the kennel and pleaded to me; "Enjoy me this day, Master." I looked at her. She had short dark hair, and eyes that were completely alive with intelligence and desire. This little slut caught my eye so I read her resume. I saw that she was well educated, and had been a real life Mistress but had found the need deep in her belly to be a slave; but none would take her fully to her submission and so she had given up many times. She was young but had the maturity far beyond her years.
"Speak to me of yourself slut; why should I enjoy you before any of the other girls?" I asked her.
"Master, you've read my resume and you know that I have the embers in my belly to be a great slave, but in my life I've not found anyone to bring that about in me fully, to bring me to my knees and beg. Are you that Master for me?" she asked, her eyes bright with hope and dancing with amber flecks of energy. I held her gaze simply for my pleasure.
"There are many delicious slaves in here," I sternly told her, and continued "many with the same experience and with the full fire in their bellies: What makes you think I would want to buy you, slave?" I was surprised because she had actually engaged me in conversation. I was not really interested in talking to the slaves yet, I was only reviewing resumes and physical traits that interested me; but this slut had something and I could feel chemistry between us.
"Master is obviously interested in this slut, since I've seen him walk back and forth for a couple of hours and looking well at the other slave meat in here, but he has not stopped to talk to any of them. Master must find something that attracts him to this animal, perhaps it is the scent of my own heat from being so turned on by the naked slaves about me and the Master's searing eyes upon all the flesh exposed here." She managed to say that with a deferential tone encapsulated in a slave's confidence that I found refreshing.
My mind screamed, "Insolent slave" and I laughed inwardly. Imagine the confidence it must take, to be naked in a kennel, in the process of yielding your own identity and ownership of your own person to a complete stranger in an auction, and to state so confidently that you are wanted. So many women lack that self confidence. They tend to look in a mirror and see only flaws, where a man's discerning eye only sees beauty and potential pleasure. This slut was certainly different. She knew her place. She understood that she had much to offer to a master. She just seemed to forget that slaves are animals, and if they get too confident sometimes they need to be shown both that they are truly appreciated, and that the Master will always be the Master.
Too many men forget that women do truly wish to have strong men in their lives. It is easy to see why some men forget to take their place in the home. Their wives or women earn a salary, they have not been able to provide totally for them, and thus they rely on the women to bring home at least half the bacon. If a man cannot provide fully for the family, and the woman is required to take on the pressures of bringing home the money to support the family; then the pressures tend to overshadow the true role of the woman, and the true role of the man. Once those lines are blurred it becomes very difficult to for the man to establish himself as the head of the home, and for the woman to establish herself as the woman of the home.
It is done in many homes, but in many more homes the lines are blurred and therefore the woman is more likely to be influenced by the politically correct view of feminism, then the natural needs of a woman to feel safe and protected by her man. It is my opinion, then, that women who seek enslavement are truly tired of the blurred lines and are finding a true outlet for their need for clarity and strong men.
The slavers do a good job of making sure that domineers are weeded out before they are allowed to participate in a slave auction. It would be too easy for poorly prepared men, to come and buy a girl and not know what to do with them. The truth of the matter is that here on earth too many men have never been taught their rightful position in life and have compensated the wrong way. The frustration of a male, who feels powerless in the home, and powerless in the job market, and powerless at life in general, tends to become gruff and harsh and mean spirited. He commands rather than leads a woman. He yells rather than disciplines a woman. He strikes in anger with his temper or his hands, rather than deal with lack of control.
Control comes from within. Leadership comes from control over self and knowing exactly where one is going. Others can see a clear goal being sought and find it easy to determine if that destination, that goal, is where they wish to be themselves. Finding commonality of goals they make the choice to follow the leader. Domineering men, and to be fair some women, tend to tell you why you should follow them. They tend to try to force others to see how much better they are and then push hard for you to get in line. That is not Mastery, that is weakness masked by a dominant veneer that reveals itself as a domineering attitude that turns off the natural slave in most women; leaving only the weak woman (who is never truly a slave for a slave is a very strong woman) to follow such.
Slavers do as good a job at sorting out the weak woman who would be in danger as a slave, as they do in keeping out the domineering assholes that pray on such women. Masters build confidence and build upon the slave's need to be in the presence of a Dominant man, they need to know that their women are strong and confident so that submission and the surrender is of strong confident need, not of weakness and fear. This slave, in the cage before me seems like a strong confident woman who seeks to kneel and yield to the whip. To be shown that there is such thing as discipline and not malevolence in her Master. She will be taught well.
"Keeper," I shouted to the man at the end of the hall with the ring of keys. "I wish to flog this wench, she is entirely too confident of her slave value, and I wish to bring her down a notch or two; bring the keys and tie her to the whipping cross..." I asked. He walked to me with complete boredom in his eyes, took the slut out of the cage and though she struggled with a puzzled look on her face, she knew she had no choice. She had spoken boldly for a slave and she was now going to face the consequence of her action.
I watched her five foot four frame tied to the cross on her toes, she looked back at me pleadingly as I walked to the wall rack and found a heavy flogger that fit my hand well and gave me a good balanced feel. The purple leather was soft but it had a nice bite to it. She would feel the pain of the flogger soon and well.
"Mater," she swallowed hard, "may this slave speak?" she asked
"You may speak slave, only know that it will have consequences..." I said. Then I watched the delicious curve of her claves and the tightness of a horsewoman's thighs so used to holding her on horseback, and the roundness of her heart shaped ass giving way to a small sexy waist and then up to a good set of shoulders. I knew her body could take a good flogging and I was planning on finding out how good she truly was.
"Master, this slave begs mercy for anything unpleasing she may have said, and begs that you take the flogger well to her body if you feel she needs discipline." Her eyes were still puzzled as she looked at me, but there was an inner strength that begged to be broken well to her honest collar.
I took the first few strokes without saying a word. I landed them first on her round ass to warm my wrist up. The turns were elegant and energy building and then the wrist would break and the tips would speed up only to land with compounded power upon the slave's flesh. I gave her ten strokes on each ass cheek and then went to work on her upper body. I watched the tails land upon her flesh and deliver their kiss upon the flesh deeply. She knew she was being taken to task for being so forward, and she too knew that I was truly pleased with the way she had spoken and was measuring her ability to accept my control over her.
After building the intensity of the strokes she finally let out an honest sob and tears covered her face. She had surrendered and accepted the pain allowing herself to release her tears as though they were an orgasm. The sobs increased in depth and meaning and although I had softened the blows significantly she took each as a deep scar to herself and let out sobs from decades of need and desire, anger and disappointment. I felt her give all of herself to me through her contact with my flogger. I continued to lightly flog her and push the tears and honest cries from deep inside of her.
When I was done, I cut her down and she crumbled at my feet, tears streaming down her face and neck and down her small perfect breast. She knelt at my feet, wrapped her arms around my calves and kissed my shoes. She licked at them with a frenzy that I had not read even in the best of the books. She sobbed and kissed saying nothing, but I could feel her plea to own her and to never let her hide from me or from herself again. Her sobs came from deeper and deeper inside of her soul and seemed to have a cathartic effect on the slave. The keeper came towards me.