1. Barb's story ...
"You two! Step forward! You're next!" barked the slave auctioneer.
I took hold of and squeezed my mother's hand. Together we awkwardly made our way forward to the very front of the low wooden auction platform. The fact that our ankles had been shackled together made any kind of rapid movement a bit of a challenge.
From the edge of the platform we looked out over a sea of faces, nearly all of them male ... plantation men ... all potential owners. The girl who had just been auctioned was being led away and the attention of the buyers had turned our way. Every pair of eyes out there was looking us over appraisingly. I thought it creepy, and looked away.
We were dressed in plain skirts and blouses. A cardboard placard, emblazoned with our names printed in large block letters, hung from a cord around our necks. The writing on the placard also included, in smaller letters, information about our age, height, weight, race, etc. My card displayed the name: "Barbara Moore". My mother's identified her as "Patricia Moore". Our ages were given as 18 and 37.
The fact that we had the same last names suggested we were related. And, judging from our appearance, anyone looking at us would immediately suspect .... given our similar shapes, facial features, brown hair and dark brown eyes ... that we were mother and daughter.
"May I direct your attention please to this pair of lovelies brought in just this morning. Let me assure you gentlemen that a better looking pair of slaves cannot be found. Just look at them! Strong enough to work in the fields, yet more than attractive enough for other purposes too," chortled the auctioneer with an exaggerated wink. And then as though to sweeten the deal, he quickly added, "special deal today ... purchase the two of them together and receive a discount!"
I squeezed mother's hand again, doing my best to be both brave and comforting in what was shaping up to be a difficult and unsettling situation.
"Let the bidding begin at 40,000 each," declared the auctioneer, pounding his gavel on the table before him for emphasis. "I hear 45 ... now 47 from the gentleman in back ... 49 up front. Come on gents, we can do better than that for such fine-looking female flesh. 5o! Good ... 52! ... come on, now, you know these two cunts are worth far more than that. Want to see more of them, do you? Of course, you do!!! Ladies, would you kindly remove your blouses?"
"Oh no," my mother gasped, letting go of my hand to place hers over her mouth. For a moment, I feared she would try to turn and run.
"55 now, thank you. Come on ladies, let's be quick about it. Don't be shy. Off with the blouses ... bras too while you're at it! Let's show 'em what you got."
There was no point in arguing. We both knew we had no choice but to do as we were told. The half-naked girl we had seen hanging from a whipping post behind the platform, her back all bloody, was testimony to that. I began slowly to unbutton and remove my blouse, letting it slip from my shoulders, and then to my waist, before undoing the last button and casting it aside.
And, as I did so ... to distract myself from the utter humiliation of being forced to strip in front of all these men ... I allowed my mind to flash backward in time to the night before, when this all began.
The authorities had arrived at our farmhouse just before daylight and pounded on the door, demanding entrance. My father went to the door in his night clothes, muttering to himself about what all the commotion could possibly be about. As soon as he unlocked the door, they barged through, nearly knocking the poor man over.
The intruders were a tough looking lot ... hired muscle ... and were led by an officious-looking little man in an ill-fitted suit, who strode into the place as though he owned it ... loudly declaring our small farm to be delinquent in payments to its creditors, and proclaiming that he had been authorized by the courts to seize me and my mother to be sold at auction ... the proceeds from the sale to be divided among my father's creditors.
My father protested, but was swiftly silenced by a clenched fist to the stomach that doubled him over in pain. My mother and I had rushed to father's aid, but were seized immediately. I was thrown to the floor face down, and pinned there by a burly lout who rendered me helpless by planting his knee firmly in the small of my back. Mother was left standing, but with her arms wrenched tightly behind her back.
"Stop resisting!" commanded the officious-looking one. "It will do neither of you any good. You are coming with us. Now get some clothes on and make it fast!"
I looked up at her. She looked at me. She appeared resigned as they released her arms. I tried to look indifferent. As my assailant's knee was released from my back, I made a point of getting up very slowly, nonchalantly smoothing down my night shirt which had ridden half way up my back while I was prone on the floor. But before I could pull it down, the brute gave me a resounding smack across my butt with the flat of his hand. He grinned wickedly at me when I yelped and turned to glare at him.
We were told to dress and get ready to leave. I asked him what I should wear. "Hardly matters, where you're going," he retorted. "Just make it snappy!
We dressed and as the first light of dawn was breaking, they shackled and chained us together at the ankles, hustled us onto the back of a horse-drawn wagon and drove us into town to be dropped off at the auction grounds.
Things happened very quickly there. The next thing I knew, we were queued behind the auction platform, along with a half dozen others, waiting our turn to step up on the platform and be sold as common slaves.
"55 ... I hear 55 from the man in the yellow hat ... do I hear 60?" called the auctioneer in his fast-paced auctioneering patter, as I reached back to undo my bra ... clutching it briefly to my chest before allowing it and my breasts to fall free. Instinctively I covered up with my hands.
Patricia did the same. She looked distraught as she stood topless ... hands covering her breasts, face red with shame ... in front of all these men! Is this really happening to us, I thought?
"60 ... 65 now, thank you ... look at those gorgeous tits boys! To die for, eh? Hands on your heads, ladies, turn around slowly. That's it, let's make sure everyone gets a good look at those luscious knockers ... I hear 70 ... 70 in back ... Do I hear 75?"
It was totally humiliating. I looked down at my feet ... not wishing to meet the lustful gaze of the buyers ... as I pirouetted, hands clasped tightly behind my head, bare breasts wobbling and swaying, nipples erect and hardened in the cool morning air.
"80!" exclaimed the auctioneer gleefully. Do I hear more? Do you gents need a little more encouragement? Yes? Alright! Come on ladies, let's show them the rest. Drop the skirts now! Bare it!"
I started to protest ... this was going too far ... but quickly thought better of it when one of the auctioneer's assistants, a burly fellow who had been standing off to the side, took a step forward brandishing a wide leather strap in his hand.
"Don't cause trouble Barb. Just do as we're told," hissed Patricia as her skirt slid down her legs to gather in a bunch at her shackled ankles.
I took my time, which allowed me a small, yet important, sense of being in control ... but followed her example and dropped my skirt, leaving us both naked, save for our panties.
"85, thank you sir!" Seen enough? Do I hear 90? No? So you want more, do you? Yes? Well you heard them ladies!!! Off with the last of it now!"
Taking a deep breath, I bent forward, bare breasts dangling, looped my thumbs under the waistband of my panties and eased them slowly off my hips, hesitated for a moment, and then in one swift motion slid them down over my thighs and knees. Coming up, I covered my crotch as fast as I could with both hands while glancing over to check on Patricia. She was there, standing stark naked beside me, tears of shame running down her cheeks.
"90 down front! ... 95 in back ... do I hear more? ... No? ... Take a good look at these beauties gents! One last chance to bid. Turn around and bend over now ladies! Show them your holes!"
Neither of us moved. We stood still as though petrified, until two brutish-looking handlers came forward to lend a hand. One of them grabbed me by the hair with one hand while spinning me roughly around with the other. I cursed as he tugged down on my hair, forcing me to bend over and present my ass for all to see. Looking through my legs, I was treated to an upside down view of dozens of men edging forward and jostling one another to get a better view.
"See what did I tell you! Exquisite, no? The younger one is nice and tight. Just think of what that might be like gents! I hear 95 ... 95 is now the top bid ... anyone out there care to top 95 and walk away from here with these fine two prizes?"
I groaned as a pair of hands performed the final indignity of spreading wide my ass cheeks. A spontaneous appreciative cheer erupted from the assembled buyers.
"Do I hear 100? I have 95. Will anyone bid more? No ? Going once. Going twice. Sold; for 95,000 each to the gentleman in the back. Kindly pay at the table, my good sir, before you take them away. Now, coming up next we have ... "
"You two! Step forward! You're next!" barked the slave auctioneer.
I took hold of and squeezed my mother's hand. Together we awkwardly made our way forward to the very front of the low wooden auction platform. The fact that our ankles had been shackled together made any kind of rapid movement a bit of a challenge.
From the edge of the platform we looked out over a sea of faces, nearly all of them male ... plantation men ... all potential owners. The girl who had just been auctioned was being led away and the attention of the buyers had turned our way. Every pair of eyes out there was looking us over appraisingly. I thought it creepy, and looked away.
We were dressed in plain skirts and blouses. A cardboard placard, emblazoned with our names printed in large block letters, hung from a cord around our necks. The writing on the placard also included, in smaller letters, information about our age, height, weight, race, etc. My card displayed the name: "Barbara Moore". My mother's identified her as "Patricia Moore". Our ages were given as 18 and 37.
The fact that we had the same last names suggested we were related. And, judging from our appearance, anyone looking at us would immediately suspect .... given our similar shapes, facial features, brown hair and dark brown eyes ... that we were mother and daughter.
"May I direct your attention please to this pair of lovelies brought in just this morning. Let me assure you gentlemen that a better looking pair of slaves cannot be found. Just look at them! Strong enough to work in the fields, yet more than attractive enough for other purposes too," chortled the auctioneer with an exaggerated wink. And then as though to sweeten the deal, he quickly added, "special deal today ... purchase the two of them together and receive a discount!"
I squeezed mother's hand again, doing my best to be both brave and comforting in what was shaping up to be a difficult and unsettling situation.
"Let the bidding begin at 40,000 each," declared the auctioneer, pounding his gavel on the table before him for emphasis. "I hear 45 ... now 47 from the gentleman in back ... 49 up front. Come on gents, we can do better than that for such fine-looking female flesh. 5o! Good ... 52! ... come on, now, you know these two cunts are worth far more than that. Want to see more of them, do you? Of course, you do!!! Ladies, would you kindly remove your blouses?"
"Oh no," my mother gasped, letting go of my hand to place hers over her mouth. For a moment, I feared she would try to turn and run.
"55 now, thank you. Come on ladies, let's be quick about it. Don't be shy. Off with the blouses ... bras too while you're at it! Let's show 'em what you got."
There was no point in arguing. We both knew we had no choice but to do as we were told. The half-naked girl we had seen hanging from a whipping post behind the platform, her back all bloody, was testimony to that. I began slowly to unbutton and remove my blouse, letting it slip from my shoulders, and then to my waist, before undoing the last button and casting it aside.
And, as I did so ... to distract myself from the utter humiliation of being forced to strip in front of all these men ... I allowed my mind to flash backward in time to the night before, when this all began.
The authorities had arrived at our farmhouse just before daylight and pounded on the door, demanding entrance. My father went to the door in his night clothes, muttering to himself about what all the commotion could possibly be about. As soon as he unlocked the door, they barged through, nearly knocking the poor man over.
The intruders were a tough looking lot ... hired muscle ... and were led by an officious-looking little man in an ill-fitted suit, who strode into the place as though he owned it ... loudly declaring our small farm to be delinquent in payments to its creditors, and proclaiming that he had been authorized by the courts to seize me and my mother to be sold at auction ... the proceeds from the sale to be divided among my father's creditors.
My father protested, but was swiftly silenced by a clenched fist to the stomach that doubled him over in pain. My mother and I had rushed to father's aid, but were seized immediately. I was thrown to the floor face down, and pinned there by a burly lout who rendered me helpless by planting his knee firmly in the small of my back. Mother was left standing, but with her arms wrenched tightly behind her back.
"Stop resisting!" commanded the officious-looking one. "It will do neither of you any good. You are coming with us. Now get some clothes on and make it fast!"
I looked up at her. She looked at me. She appeared resigned as they released her arms. I tried to look indifferent. As my assailant's knee was released from my back, I made a point of getting up very slowly, nonchalantly smoothing down my night shirt which had ridden half way up my back while I was prone on the floor. But before I could pull it down, the brute gave me a resounding smack across my butt with the flat of his hand. He grinned wickedly at me when I yelped and turned to glare at him.
We were told to dress and get ready to leave. I asked him what I should wear. "Hardly matters, where you're going," he retorted. "Just make it snappy!
We dressed and as the first light of dawn was breaking, they shackled and chained us together at the ankles, hustled us onto the back of a horse-drawn wagon and drove us into town to be dropped off at the auction grounds.
Things happened very quickly there. The next thing I knew, we were queued behind the auction platform, along with a half dozen others, waiting our turn to step up on the platform and be sold as common slaves.
"55 ... I hear 55 from the man in the yellow hat ... do I hear 60?" called the auctioneer in his fast-paced auctioneering patter, as I reached back to undo my bra ... clutching it briefly to my chest before allowing it and my breasts to fall free. Instinctively I covered up with my hands.
Patricia did the same. She looked distraught as she stood topless ... hands covering her breasts, face red with shame ... in front of all these men! Is this really happening to us, I thought?
"60 ... 65 now, thank you ... look at those gorgeous tits boys! To die for, eh? Hands on your heads, ladies, turn around slowly. That's it, let's make sure everyone gets a good look at those luscious knockers ... I hear 70 ... 70 in back ... Do I hear 75?"
It was totally humiliating. I looked down at my feet ... not wishing to meet the lustful gaze of the buyers ... as I pirouetted, hands clasped tightly behind my head, bare breasts wobbling and swaying, nipples erect and hardened in the cool morning air.
"80!" exclaimed the auctioneer gleefully. Do I hear more? Do you gents need a little more encouragement? Yes? Alright! Come on ladies, let's show them the rest. Drop the skirts now! Bare it!"
I started to protest ... this was going too far ... but quickly thought better of it when one of the auctioneer's assistants, a burly fellow who had been standing off to the side, took a step forward brandishing a wide leather strap in his hand.
"Don't cause trouble Barb. Just do as we're told," hissed Patricia as her skirt slid down her legs to gather in a bunch at her shackled ankles.
I took my time, which allowed me a small, yet important, sense of being in control ... but followed her example and dropped my skirt, leaving us both naked, save for our panties.
"85, thank you sir!" Seen enough? Do I hear 90? No? So you want more, do you? Yes? Well you heard them ladies!!! Off with the last of it now!"
Taking a deep breath, I bent forward, bare breasts dangling, looped my thumbs under the waistband of my panties and eased them slowly off my hips, hesitated for a moment, and then in one swift motion slid them down over my thighs and knees. Coming up, I covered my crotch as fast as I could with both hands while glancing over to check on Patricia. She was there, standing stark naked beside me, tears of shame running down her cheeks.
"90 down front! ... 95 in back ... do I hear more? ... No? ... Take a good look at these beauties gents! One last chance to bid. Turn around and bend over now ladies! Show them your holes!"
Neither of us moved. We stood still as though petrified, until two brutish-looking handlers came forward to lend a hand. One of them grabbed me by the hair with one hand while spinning me roughly around with the other. I cursed as he tugged down on my hair, forcing me to bend over and present my ass for all to see. Looking through my legs, I was treated to an upside down view of dozens of men edging forward and jostling one another to get a better view.
"See what did I tell you! Exquisite, no? The younger one is nice and tight. Just think of what that might be like gents! I hear 95 ... 95 is now the top bid ... anyone out there care to top 95 and walk away from here with these fine two prizes?"
I groaned as a pair of hands performed the final indignity of spreading wide my ass cheeks. A spontaneous appreciative cheer erupted from the assembled buyers.
"Do I hear 100? I have 95. Will anyone bid more? No ? Going once. Going twice. Sold; for 95,000 each to the gentleman in the back. Kindly pay at the table, my good sir, before you take them away. Now, coming up next we have ... "
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