The third day.
Susan was used to the procedure now, but Megan found it all strange and frightening. Although she had attended auctions before, and had bought Susan, being on the other side of the fence was a new experience.
She was presented with the consent forms. As she was already naked, all she had to do was sign them. Her hands were freed, and she read the documents carefully. “No limits.” Her voice had a bemused tone. “Does that really mean they can do anything they like with us?” Susan nodded. The official with the paperwork was more precise. “Your purchaser can do anything he or she wishes, as long as there is no permanent physical damage. Permanent damage is defined as marks or injuries that cannot heal in less than seven days. Temporary piercings are allowed, in any part of the body. Any other questions?” He waited a moment. “Then sign here, please, and here.”
He turned to the guard. Bring the collar tagged with ‘Ginger.’ She shuddered as she was collared, the soft click of the lock having an air of finality. “This one is brave”, the official said to the guard. “Not many first timers sign up for a month.”
“A month?” Megan was outraged. “I didn’t sign up for a month!” She started to gesticulate wildly, but was restrained by the guard, who cuffed her hands behind her back. The official was unfazed. “Those are the instructions from your owner, the instructions you consented to on page eleven. You have signed consent. If you wish to argue, you can argue with your owner next month.” He placed the papers in his briefcase and strolled off.
“But I don’t have an owner.” Megan’s voice was small, on the verge of tears. “Who do they think owns me? Not Geoff, surely? He wouldn’t? Would he? Would he?” her voice was desperate now. “It was only meant to be for one day, just for fun. A month? Thirty different owners? That wasn’t the plan.” Her shoulders shook as she sobbed, her breasts bouncing prettily. She looked very young, vulnerable and innocent.
Susan and Megan, now slave Ginger, were led to the viewing area. Susan recognised some of the slaves on display from her previous sales. The young man was there, standing tall and proud. She wondered what adventures he had had. She and Megan were placed on display platforms. Next to Susan was the blonde girl she had noticed at her first sale. The girl looked so innocent, her slender body so vulnerable. She looked even more vulnerable now, with the red marks of a whipping tracing their way across her body. Her little breasts and pink nipples seemed to have been the main targets of the whip. She was certainly not shy. Her eyes roved the crowd, boldly meeting the eyes of prospective buyers. She stood with her legs spread, her hips trust slightly forward, displaying the smooth mound and the tight lips between her thighs. She smiled at Susan.
Susan smiled back. “Is this your first time here?” She asked the girl. The girl gave her a dazzling smile. “No way! This is my second year.” Susan took in the slender body, the lovely rounded buttocks, the perfect little breasts.
The sales started. Ginger was up first. Bidding was brisk, her ivory skin, luscious body and flaming hair attracting the bidders like flies. Her buyer was a scruffy looking man, who led her away on a leash. She gave Susan a brave little smile as she went.
Susan was next. The bidding went on, and on! The auctioneer milking the crowd for higher bids. Finally the hammer fell. Susan was led off to a small enclosure, already populated by a mixed group of slaves. These included two beautifully built, well endowed young men whom Susan thought were probably gay, although a slave’s personal sexual preferences counted for nothing. There was a lovely, full breasted young girl in her late teens, an older woman, possibly fifty, curvaceous and firm. All had their hands cuffed behind them. More slaves were led into the enclosure, a lovely black girl, a black man who almost rivalled Mustapha, and last of all, the blonde girl. She gave Susan her impish smile.
“Looks like we’re fated to be together. I’m Tatiana, but my friends call me Tatty.” Susan smiled at her. “I have a daughter almost your age. I’m Susan, although my last owner christened me Juicy Puss.”
Tatty grinned. My mom and dad brought me here two years ago. This is where we spend our vacations. My mom is doing a week in a brothel before coming here. My dad is in a slave camp. He likes it rough. Lots of whipping and sodomy is what he wants, and he gets it there. My sister and brother are around somewhere, sold like us. I wonder why we are all here in this pen?”
‘Some family holiday,’ Susan thought. Any further conversation was interrupted by two men arriving, carrying lengths of light chain. The slaves were chained together neck to neck, then led to an open truck. They were loaded onto the truck, their backs to a central bar, their handcuffs secured to the bar. They all faced outward exposed to all who passed by.
A man, dressed smartly in somewhat old-fashioned clothing boarded the truck. He inspected them all closely, nodding approval. “Welcome to Club Roissy, slaves. I am about to turn you all into stars of stage and screen.” Still smiling broadly, he tweaked one of young Tatty’s nipples. “Ah! Our very own Shirley Temple, I see.”
Getting off the truck, he climbed into the cab. The truck jerked into motion, the chained slaves struggling to keep their footing as it sped along. The journey took them out into the country, along wooded lanes, until they entered the driveway of a large, elegant mansion. The slaves were unloaded at a side entrance, greeted by men who sported whips of one kind or another in their belts. Amazingly, they were treated with great courtesy, the females slaves being called miss, or madam, the male slaves, sir.
Susan stared with amazement as they were ushered into what looked like a large clothing store. Women in demure shifts quickly measured each slave. One of them came to Susan, carrying a deep crimson velvet gown. Susan’s handcuffs were released, and she was helped into the dress. It fitted almost perfectly, and once the attendant had tightened the laces on the bodice it fitted perfectly. There was just one problem! The front was cut so low that her breasts were totally exposed! Not just exposed, but by the action of the bodice pushed them up and forward, as if being offered as a gift, or a sacrifice. The skirts came to just above the ground, and once she had been given a pair of matching high-heeled slippers she knew she could have turned heads at any formal ball. Her naked, offered breasts would have enhanced the attention she got. She saw the others dressed the same way, the dresses all the same rich velvet, in colours meant to stand out and show off the wearers to best effect. Tatty had no breasts to offer, but one of the attendants had gilded her little nipples, making her girlish chest even more provocative.
The men were dressed elegantly in nineteenth century breeches and cutaway coats, looking like actors in a period drama. It was only when the young black turned around that Susan saw the special design feature of their outfits. The front of the breeches were cut away, totally exposing their genitals!
Susan blushed, looking at the genitals now so enhanced, offered, flaunted! At least she was modestly dressed, apart from her offered breasts. An attendant knelt in front of the older woman, adjusting her dress. Susan’s eyes widened as she realised the front of the dress was being drawn up, almost to waist height, the woman’s pussy and thighs framed in emerald green velvet, blatantly inviting! The attendant moved behind her, making the same adjustment to the back of the dress. The woman was so much more exposed than she would have been had she been naked, the framing of the dress drawing attention to the exposed pubic area and buttocks, the invitation plain.
USE ME!
Other attendants were making the same adjustments to the others. Soon Susan, too was exposed, her long legs framed invitingly by the velvet, the high heels showing them off to best effect.
The elegantly dressed man explained their duties to them. “Club Roissy is an exclusive club for members with particular interests. You will serve the guests in every way they wish. You will act as waiters and waitresses, serving food and drinks. You will also attend to any, and I stress any, desires or wishes the members may have. Some of you will be selected to perform on stage. All proceedings here are filmed, and DVDs are made available to all members as well as to subscribers worldwide. Do well here, and you could have a new career as a film star!
Susan experienced a moment of panic. If all proceedings were filmed, and the movies were available, then there was a danger that her husband could get to know of her activities. After a moment she relaxed. There was absolutely no danger of any of their vanilla friends being among the subscribers of the Roissy Club’s video archive. In fact, the thought of being filmed having sex with total strangers was exciting! Very exciting!
They were led into the club itself. It was elegant, the décor luxurious but low key. There were a number of small raised stages, and one big stage. Comfortable chairs and couches were arranged around these. Clearly this was where the live shows took place. There were also a number of large, discretely placed flat screen TVs, she assumed for instant replays of the activities.
Guests started filtering in. Most were elegantly dressed, dinner jackets and evening dresses predominating. Most of the clients were middle aged, both male and female, although there were some exceptions. A lovely girl arrived, dressed in a designer gown that showed off her superb figure to best effect. She was leading a naked man by a leash. The man was in his fifties, and the leash was attached to a ring piercing the head of his penis.
Soon Susan and the others were hard at work, taking orders for drinks and food. It took her back to her student days, although now when a guest fondled her butt there was not a pair of jeans in the way, and she was not allowed to protest. Before too long she was on her knees next to a guest, her mouth busily bringing him to the heights of pleasure, while his female partner, his wife perhaps, looked on.
Susan loved sucking cocks! She regretted the lost years when she had been deprived of the pleasure of a thick, meaty cock in her mouth and throat. She was determined to make up for lost time, and did her best to please her clients.
Her mouth filled with the delicious taste of hot cum, she was called over to another table. Tatty was stretched out on the table, her feet on the floor. Her round, firm butt was perfectly placed for the man with the thin, whippy cane. He was holding forth in a lecturing tone. “This one has a lovely arse, one that begs to be suitably marked before being used! It is clear that someone else had the same idea, but whoever it was was clearly an amateur, with no skill at all. The strokes should be laid on evenly, with no overlap. Her bum is small, but I think there is enough space for six or eight well placed strokes.” He measured Tatty’s cheeks with his fingers, calculating.
“Yes! I think eight will fit. You, in the crimson dress! Hold her hands. I don’t want her squirming and spoiling the pattern!”
Susan took Tatty’s wrists. The girl looked into her eyes. There was fear there, fear of the pain to come. Yet there was also excitement, joyful anticipation. The cane whistled, cracked against the tight stretched globes. Tatty bucked! “Oh fuck!” She hissed, “That fucking hurts!” The cane whistled again, and again, and again! Tears were streaming down the girl’s cheeks, the muscles in her butt cheeks jumping involuntarily in anticipation of the pain. “Lie still, girl!” The man growled as he laid on three more strokes.
He stopped to examine his handiwork. Nodding with satisfaction, he said, almost to himself. “Yes, very good. I think we can fit in another three.” Tatty moaned, steeling herself. Three more times the cane whistled, each stroke drawing a moan of pain from the girl. Susan saw that one of the big screens was showing the whole scene, with an inset showing a close-up of the girl’s face, the pain and anguish clear for all to see. The last stroke fell. Tatty was sobbing quietly. Susan released her hands, but the girl lay there almost unmoving. Susan could clearly see the nine perfectly spaced, perfectly parallel marks on the pert behind. One of the guests, a middle aged black man, removed his trousers. He motioned to Susan to bring him to hardness. His manhood swelled in her mouth, filling it. He was huge. Then he stepped behind the girl. She winced, then moaned as he entered her freshly caned butt. The cameras caught every detail, as inch by adamantine inch, he inserted his full length into the girl’s anus. For more than ten minutes he stroked slowly in and out of her. Finally it was over. He withdrew his dripping member, calling a boy to clean it.
“Thank you, young lady.” His tone was polite. “That was very pleasant. Waitress!” this last was directed at Susan. “A gin and tonic, please. With lime, not lemon.”
Tatty painfully stood up as Susan moved off to get the drink.
The live shows had started. The two young men sold with Susan were on the stage. Slowly they started making love, kissing, fondling each other, clothes being removed, their impressive bodies revealed. The big screens showed every detail, of their bodies, their faces, their magnificent erections. Soft music accompanied their show. The crowd became more and more excited. They were both naked now, hands and mouths pleasuring each other. One of them lay down, his erection rampant, proud. The other lowered himself slowly onto the erect cock, impaling himself, his own erection proud and rampant.
Susan stared. This was something completely new to her. If she had thought of male on male sex at all, it had been with some discomfort, if not disapproval. She remembered the feeling of disgust she had felt when the slave girl, Sultana, had told her that that the old man, Theseus, had used the young Mustapha ‘as one would a slave.’
Now she watched, fascinated, as the cock slid in and out of the man’s arse. She had discovered that sensation less than forty-eight hours before, that wonderful full feeling. Did he enjoy it as much as she had? If his erection was anything to go by, the answer was ‘yes!’ Susan looked at that cock, her insides churning. She wanted it, wanted it in her mouth, her throat. She looked at the one of the valets. “It seems a pity to waste that. Could I go up and suck it?”
He flashed her a smile. “Of course!”
Susan went up on the stage. She felt very exposed. She knew this was being filmed. Her nipples hardened with excitement. She could smell them now, the smell of male sweat, sex. She licked her lips, then touched them to that that rampant cock. The recipient groaned at the new stimulus, so different from the hard cock ramming into his arse.
It took Susan a few moments to get into their rhythm, then she was there, his cock sliding into her throat in time with the cock in his arse. She glanced up at one of the TV screens, which showed a close up of one cock sliding into a tight male arse, while another part of the screen showed another cock sliding between her lips. Susan could feel her own excitement. She knew that her naked pussy was fully exposed to the watchers, aware that the wetness flooding her must be equally visible. The man in her mouth was bucking in time to the cock slamming into him, driving his own cock ever deeper into her throat. Susan surrendered completely to the sensation of the cock in her mouth. She didn’t care about the watchers, the fact that this was all being filmed. She loved sucking cocks! The staid seeming businesswoman now knew what had been hidden all along. She was a slut, a wanton, a whore!
The cock in her throat swelled, jerked. The man was moaning with pleasure. He cried out softly, as the cock impaling him gushed semen into his bowels. Then he came! Cum filled Susan’s mouth, her throat, overflowed down her chin, even dripping from her nostrils. Slowly she allowed the cock to slide from her mouth. She felt good, but at the same time she was aware, very aware, of her own empty, unused cunt.
There was applause for their performance. Susan rose to her feet, her legs shaky from emotion. The compere came to her. “That was good. If you want a permanent job here, please let us know.” Susan smiled. A permanent job as a cocksucking whore! She wondered what her husband would think?
Her present need was more desperate. “Please? I need to fucked. I need a cock in me! Any cock! Anywhere! Please?”
He gave her a knowing look. “Desperate, are you? Feeling brave?” Susan nodded, feeling the blush rise in her cheeks. “Get that dress off. Do it slowly, teasingly. I have a surprise for you.”
Slowly, she undid the lacing of the bodice, let the dress slide to the floor in a pool of shimmering crimson velvet. Naked now, she stood proudly before the audience. There was a murmur from them, eyes moving to the side of the room. Four naked men entered. Their bodies were blue-black, corded with muscle, their skins decorated with elaborate patterns of tribal scars. Susan stood, pale, slender, trembling with fear and need. Her eyes were drawn to four erections.
The leader spoke, his voice guttural, harsh. “Turn around!” She turned, her back to him now. Strong hands gripped her thighs, lifting her off the ground, spreading them wide, displaying her to the crowd. She was suddenly aware of the blinking red eyes of active cameras, remembering the man’s words, “We’re going to make you pornstars.”
Her captor completed the circle, showing her to everyone. Then he lowered her, slowly, onto his erection. She moaned as he entered her, as her sphincter surrendered to the probing flesh. One of his companions stepped up between her spread thighs, ramming into the unoccupied orifice. She was sandwiched!
For an eternity she was used. Never were there fewer than two cocks inside her. Most of the time three and at one stage, despite her struggles and muffled cries, all four of them penetrated her simultaneously.
Sated, they abandoned her on the stage, in a sobbing, orgasmic heap.