[Disclaimer: This is not a how-to for bondage or ball gags. Do not leave someone restrained for extended periods of time unsupervised. Always use safe words. This is a fictional fantasy and is not intended to be recreated. This story involves sex slaves, nonconsensual and reluctant enjoyment. All characters are legal adults. Do not read or engage if this will upset you.]
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Even though I knew we were rather far away from the showroom, every once in a while we could hear men's laughter and the sound of high pitched moaning. I wondered if I had been that loud. The shame flooded me when I realized I had been louder.
No one spoke. The women that had led me here were gone again and it was just those of us up for auction and a few men in suits standing guard at the door. I knew it was hopeless to even look for an escape here. There weren't even any windows I could desperately try to crawl out of. And besides, my body was still aching.
It was a strange kind of ache. An all over ache. I had never been so used and so ignored before. The only one who had spoken directly to me had been Devin. The other men had only touched and measured and fucked my body with whatever they were allowed to. I was nothing more than an object to them. A very desirable object. Devin said he was going to outbid them all...
Other than the aches in my body, my mind felt a strange lightness. I had been so aware of every touch and every sound in the other room, but now I felt like I was underwater, aware only of my breathing. My eyes were half closed and I could feel my cum still leaking out of me and onto the sofa.
Was this how it always was after being used? What would it be like if they had used more than their hands and mouths and the toys provided? I wondered how I might feel then. Even if someone else outbid Devin and I went to some old man who kept me chained up on his bed, would it really be that bad if I felt this way when he was through with me? Was this the reward? A half-conscious, heavenly state of being?
In this new state of mind, time seemed to flow differently. I didn't notice women coming or going or their crying or moaning. It was both minutes and days before the examining was done. The feeling was only finally starting to wear off when we were commanded by the men at the door to stand and line up. The women from before began clipping us into collars around our necks, which linked us together. The collars were not heavy, nor were the chains, but they were strong and they shone in the light. It was all about appearance for these men.
The blindfolds were put back on, no doubt to make the men feel like their anonymity was protected. They would not want another man's slave knowing what he looked like, after all.
I was first examined, so I was first out the door, leading the chain of women behind me. The collar pulled at my throat until they got the memo to move. I was led blindly back through the halls and the men's voices became louder again. I was extremely aware of the wetness creeping down my leg. It should have dried by now. Why hadn't it dried? Why did I feel all the fight go out of me?
When we were commanded to stop, I could hear the shuffling of those folding chairs again. "Alright gentlemen, you've seen our product. Hell, you've tasted it." The auctioneer couldn't help himself from laughing along at his own little joke with the other men. "Let's get to bidding. I wouldn't want to keep you from enjoying yourselves much longer."
"First off, we have The Pleader," he said. Another chuckle. I flushed, remembering begging Devin to let me come in front of the group of men. The humiliation rose anew.
"Glad I took notes," she heard someone say. "She's the only one I could manage to shove that giant dildo into." And didn't I know it. I felt myself tighten in response, still somehow both raw from the friction and wet from the memory. And my heart went out to the other women beside me. Had he tried to shove it inside them, only to fail?
"We'll start the bidding at ten thousand."
I felt a ringing in my ears. Ten thousand. I had never considered myself anything special and yet these men were offering that much for me? My knees almost buckled. I stared into the darkness of the blindfold listening to the number climb, but I did not understand. My mind could not make heads or tails of what was happening. And Devin... I could not hear Devin's voice. I began to panic. He promised he would bid for me. I would be stuck as some old man's whore after all.
"Fifty thousand," I heard. "I want her to take a dildo and my cock in the same hole." Now I really felt ill. It wouldn't be just any old man. I would belong to someone who got off on stretching me and filling me more than my body could handle. I felt a slow trickle down my leg and squeezed my pussy closed to try to stop the unwelcome wetness from showing itself any more at the thought. The action only encouraged more of my juices to leak. I was shaking with fear. So why did I want this?
"One hundred thousand for The Pleader," the auctioneer said and I couldn't stop myself from gasping. When had the number climbed so high? "Looks like you might get your wish, after all, sir."
"Two hundred thousand," came a bored voice. "And if anyone wants to bid higher then I will pay three hundred thousand." It was Devin. Silence took the room. No one, not even the man who wanted to fill me, wanted to offer more.
"Very well, sir. The Pleader goes to you for two hundred thousand."
"Good. I'm ready to take her home now if you don't mind. She's the only one I was interested in."
In minutes I was unhooked from the others and pulled by my collar to another room. I gasped, feeling a jab in my thigh. This had not been the first time I was drugged like this. My eyes instantly began to droop and I was gone to the world in seconds.
When I next woke up, I thought I was back on stage again. The sensation was so similar to the first time. I was on a hard surface and I was bound, but I realized I was wearing a silk dress- perhaps a lace nightgown- and this time, when I opened my eyes, I could see. I looked around the room, my heart jumping into my chest. It was a bedroom. Dark walls. A bed on one side and a large TV on the other. The decor was masculine. And me, in the middle of the room, on a low table. I was laid out exactly as I had been before, but the ropes were less smooth and bit into my skin when I moved even a tiny bit.