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“Let’s give her a big hand everyone: Slave Five!”
The lights came up full once again on the stage. A guard made Five stop dancing. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her hair back again, forcing her to look into the audience while they applauded wildly.
There she stood stiff as a statue. Her arms bound behind her, her torso arched, her breasts heaving hard from her high kick chorus line dance. She looked absolutely lovely in her helplessness: the white ball gag, the remnants of her white ballet costume: nothing left except for thigh high stockings tied off with satin bows and her delicate white thong panties also tied at the hips with with satin ribbons. She still had her ballet shoes of course. Mercifully the man removed the nipple clamps, leaving them completely exposed and vulnerable.
And then, just as the applause began to die, he forced her to take a deep bow, bending her like a jack knife at the waist. Poor Slave Five! Her big beautiful breasts swung freely down and away from her chest, dangling obscenely for everyone to see. She tried to stand up straight as quickly as possible, but the guard would not let her move. Rather, he pulled her by the hair yet again, jerking her face up so that everyone could see her embarrassment. A new round of applause broke out. People cheered and whistled.
Coincidentally, she made eye contact with an older man in the front row who extended his hands towards her and gestured that he wanted to milk her. He was just one of the many who offered up different obscene gestures for her to see. Five closed her eyes in shame and shuddered as rivulets of tears began to streak down her tender cheeks.
The guard continued, forcing her to stand up straight again, turning her to face in a new direction and then bending her torso back down again, repeating the bow until she was made to look at everyone in the room and all the while her breasts seemed to betray her as they continued to bounce and swing almost happily below. She continued to shudder. She had been through so much since her capture, but never felt so debased or so humiliated
Finally, as the applause began to die, another man carried in a small 6”X6”X6” wooden block and set it down directly in front of the slave girl.
“Up,” the other man ordered as he almost lifted her onto it.
A red rope noose was lowered from the ceiling. The man placed it around her neck, looked off stage at an unseen rigger and nodded. The rope began to winch up tight. Five gasped in shock. She thought for sure that they were going to hang her to death right then and there in front of everyone, but they stopped it just as the rope drew up around her neck. Five could stand there on the block, but she dared not move at all. One small step could prove to be her demise.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the emcee, “The owners of Slave Five have put her on an eighty thousand dollar reserve. $80,000.00 And now…80…80…80..”
“Sixty,” yelled a voice.
“Very well, sixty. 65…65…65…”
The bidding had begun and the numbers began to flow. Slave Five could simply not believe it. She might as well have been a piece of meat. Her mind raced. Some sadistic man, perhaps even a woman, would buy her. Buy her! Soon, somehow, she would be carted away. And then, who knows, bound in any number of ways, forced to commit unspeakable acts of debauchery, and maybe even tortured much to the lascivious pleasure of someone whose name she may never even know. She closed her eyes again, hoping against hope, to escape, to will herself away from the gruesome reality which had begun to unfold around her.
“80…80…80…” chanted the voice. “Do I hear 80?”
The bidding stalled. The guard nodded. Slowly, but inexorably the winch began to pull at the hapless girl’s neck forcing her to stand on tip toes to save her own life. Eighty thousand may have seemed like a lot, but it was clear that the auctioneer was serious. Eighty thousand or they would hang her right then and there, almost stark naked in front of a bunch of leering strangers. Slave Five began to whimper incoherently, begging for mercy, pleading with the audience to save her life.
“Eighty,” someone said at long last.
Oddly, ironically the bid was almost an act of mercy for Five. And she found herself actually thankful for it.
“Eighty five,” said another.
The bids began to roll in again. Five was saved. Still, however, no one released her rope. She would have to stand there and make a spectacle of herself as her lovely muscular legs strained to keep her from getting strangled, her chest thrust proudly forward as if she actually wanted it to be noticed.
“One hundred,” called the voice several times, but again the bidding stalled. No one answered.
“You have been most gracious, everyone, but we must insist that this young lady has still something more to show you. Her captors have saved the best for last.”
The guard stepped forward almost as if on cue. He pulled at one of the satin ribbons which held up her panties. They fell to the floor but stopped just short coming to rest around her ankles. She had pressed her feet together to keep them on the block, casually trapping them as she did.
The audience gasped in surprise. Somebody yelled “fuck.” And then a hush fell over the room. Her crotch had been shaved bare. Her labia had been pierced at regular intervals from top to bottom. A white satin ribbon had been strung through all of the holes, laced up like a shoe and then tied tightly into a pretty little bow at the top. It closed off her sex and that just made everyone want her all the more. Now stark naked and fully exposed, Slave Five stood composed like a picture, a stunning but incongruous combination of prima ballerina and porn queen. People began to emote. A few laughed. A few others cheered, but for the most part they were in shock.
“One hundred,”a man yelled.
“One O Five,” another.
The auction began to drive itself. The bidding paused again at $135,000.00. Not bad for an evening’s work, but still they were not finished. One of the guards brandished a bamboo cane. He cracked Slave Five hard across the tops of her thighs. She screamed and screamed again with a second stroke. Five more blows followed each other in quick succession each accompanied by a scream. The girl twisted and cowered on the wooden block as she struggled to maintain her position.
“One forty,” yelled another.
Another pause…another stroke of the cane…another scream…still no more bids…
“One forty,” said another voice. “One forty…going once…one forty going twice…Sold!”
And not a minute too soon: Slave Five began to weaken. Her strong legs began to tremble. She fell into a swoon as the guards caught her and the winch lowered her down. Humiliated, beaten, broken, and forced to participate in her own torture and debasement, Slave Five had been reduced to nothing more than so much nameless girl flesh, much to the delight of the highest bidder in the room. She had heard his voice, but she never even saw him. She almost did not care.
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