Jillian sat in the sturdy steel cage and surveyed the organised chaos around her. In similar cages sat other men and women. Just as naked, also collared, looking just as forlorn. Around them, various people busied themselves with the various tasks required to hold the auction. An auction in which Jillian herself was going to be sold.

How on Earth had her fantasy led to this? The question was rhetorical of course. Jill knew exactly the sequence of events that had led to this. After three years of bliss in Cathy's collar, Cathy had dropped the bombshell. Her employers wanted her to liaise with the New York office. It would mean six weeks abroad. Jill was not coming but being loaned out to Ric and Sue. There would be no time to find a place to keep Jill in, while she was out there, and she would be working stupid hours anyway.

Ric had turned out to be a very hands-on Master. Jill was put through her paces hard. She found herself realising being a real slave when you did not love your owner was much tougher than she had ever fantasised. Foolish fantasies of being gang-banged, or made to work in a brothel, or even sold at an auction became just that; foolish. She had confessed all of those and more to Cathy such as being made to slave for a man or perform on a stage. But once she found herself calling Ric Master she realised just how stupid these fantasies were.

Sue had started to get jealous. There had been some ugly rows. Sue had taken her temper out on Jill and Jill had eagerly counted the days until her Mistress would return.

Then the second bombshell. Delivered by Ric. Cathy was not coming back. She had met someone. She was taking a full-time position in New York. Jill was Ric's slave full time.

Sue had said no way. Jill had begged to be freed. Ric had angrily tried to convince Sue having a slave could work. When it didn't he'd tried convincing Sue to join Jill as a slave. The rows had been spectacular.

Then two days ago the mood changed. Ric and Sue came over smug and Jill stayed in her cage. She watched them suspiciously wondering what they had planned. Then this morning she had found out. She was being sold. Ric had found, via a contact in the fetish scene, that real slave auctions were held. They'd sussed him for what he was very quickly. They were charging him a very large fee to sell her. But selling her they were.

Three men in black polo shirts had arrived. Her cage had been put on a sack truck and she had been taken down to the carpark to be loaded into a van. Sue had gloated as she had been wheeled out of their apartment.

Now she sat and looked out through the steel bars at the industry that considered her an object. Livestock at best. Meat for the grinder. Today the highest bidder would claim her for their own. Worse this would be a serious slaver. Not a mate of her girlfriend. But someone who would consider her property and want a return on their investment.

"Hello, Twenty Two." A woman stood in front of her cage, a clipboard in her hand. She was heavyset with a pear-shaped figure and a face that saw too little sunlight.

"Are you talking to me, ma'am?"

"Yes, you are lot Twenty Two. I'm your handler today. You will address me as Mistress.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Is this your first auction, slave? It says here on your sales sheet you've been a slave for three years and had two owners."

"Yes, Mistress, this is my first time. Mistress, is this real? This isn't some sort of joke is it?"

"Very real, no joke. Now listen to me as I'm going to explain a few things. It's my job to ensure you reach as high a price as possible. You may be entertaining a few ideas of your own counter to this. Let me explain why that would be stupid. On the other side of that stage, the buyers are gathering. We don't let them examine you in advance. They have your sales sheet, and then you perform on stage, while they bid. It's in your interest to go to a high bidder too. The cheap girls go to hell. Dive S&M clubs in seedy districts buy slaves fit only to be tortured. The brothel owners scoop up the dross that at least looks good. They'll drug you into a stupor and line men up for twenty bucks a go. No, you want to be bought by a collector. This sheet says you have some skills. Let me help you show them off. Entice the buyers. Woo them and you'll at least find yourself in a hareem or some business moguls retreat. Is that clear?"

Tears ran down Jill's cheeks, "Yes, Mistress."

"So it says here you have five languages?"

"Yes, Mistress, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Chinese and Russian."

"Also that you have high-level certificates for the piano and guitar. Can you sing?"

"Yes, Mistress I'm a Mezzo-Soprano."

"Also that you can cook?"

"My first Mistress had me classicly trained by a Michelin starred chef, Mistress."

"Why all the skills?"

"My Mistress didn't want me sitting in a cage at home waiting for her return from work. She had me educated so I could be useful to her. I was having lessons in creative writing as well as being taught accountancy. I was also taught to pole dance and given lessons on how to deep throat by a local pro."

"Wow! The commission on you is going to be legendary. Okay, this is what you're going to be doing on the stage..."

oOo

Jill marched out onto the platform behind her handler. It was not as if she had much choice as the woman held her leash. She glanced at the small crowd of bored faces looking up at them on the stage. Jill swallowed and tried not to think about the terror that wanted to consume her.

A man at a lectern started talking into a speaker. "Lot twenty-two is a privately trained pleasure slave. Highly trained and, as you can see, extremely attractive. While petite and only five foot or one hundred and fifty-three centimetres, she has a thirty-five, twenty-four, thirty-five figure..." Jill tuned the man out. She could not listen to him now, she had to perform to avoid a career in a brothel. If she listened to him the fear would eat her up.

She had been dressed in latex stockings and gloves as well as a pair of ballet boots. Her handler was impressed she could walk in them and insisted she wear them. Jill is led up to a dance pole and music starts. The leash is removed from her collar and the handler steps back.

Jill launches into her routine. The one she made for Cathy. Numbly she goes through the moves. Spinning and swinging around the pole. Hanging by one leg she strokes herself before twirling around to land in splits. Bouncing up again to swing once more before stopping in a vertical splits her legs flush to the pole. Eventually, the routine ends and the dumpy handler walks back up and re-attaches the leash.

Jillian tunes the auctioneer back in briefly, "Seven hundred thousand do I hear seven five?"

She is led over to a naked male slave. His erection is nearly as impressive as the rest of his physique. Bulging pecs, washboard abs and bulging thighs aside Jillian kneels at the collared mans' feet.

Without hesitation, she engulfs his member in her mouth. She hears him groan with pleasure as she swirls her pierced tongue around his shaft before swallowing his helmet and ramming his rod down her throat. No sooner has her nose reached his belly she withdraws and runs the bead on her tongue around his glands.

She then deep throats him once more as she gently grasps his balls and pulls them back so he lasts a little longer. She then sets up a steady rhythm forcefully ramming his cock down her throat repeatedly until she feels him on the very brink. She grasps his shaft firmly with her hand and tickles the tip of his penis with her tongue.

A huge jet of semen explodes from the engorged phallus which Jill aims straight into her open mouth. Jet after jet of hot spunk fires onto her waiting tongue. When the slave is drained Jill makes a show of swallowing his gift and licking her lips.

Jillian now retires into a kneeling pose. Natural to her now, after over three years in a collar. The auctioneer is finishing up, "One point two can I say one point three? I'll take a half if it helps. Going once ladies and gentlemen... For the second time... Third and final warning... Sold! To the seated gentleman at the back. Can I see your paddle, sir?"

Jillian has been sold. "I am worth more than a million," she thinks as her handler pulls her to her feet. In a daze, Jill is led from the stage and back to her cage. The cage rests on a pallet. Once Jill is within, wooden panels are quickly nailed around to form a crate by a bored-looking man. Finally, a perforated chipboard lid is nailed on, casting Jillian into gloom.

After a while, a voice asks, "Is this one going overseas?"

"Dunno, look at the manifest," comes a reply. Someone steps up to the crate and Jill hears papers rustle.

"Oi, Frank! Load this one next," shouts the original voice. A forklift picks up the crate. There's some motion and she guesses she has been loaded in a van. Doors slam and she is underway.

So is this what being a slave is really like? Jill asks herself. Being ignored. Really treated like an object. None of the people back at the auction had cared about her. At best she was a high commission. Since Ric had seen her off she had been treated like an animal, property, livestock. Cathy had loved her. Ric and Sue had at least treated her as human. Until they sent her to auction that is. "I'm worth more than a million," she thought again. "I have value."

She'd been bought by a man. Jill had always known she was gay. Yet it seemed her immediate future would be spent fucking a man. Slaves don't have choices. Mistress had hammered that one home early on. From the moment Cathy had collared her she had disregarded Jillian's sexuality. It seemed that lesson too was now paying off.

The van seemed to be on a motorway. Jillian realised she was exhausted. The nervous energy spent had not been replaced with any food. As she had so many times before she curled up in her cage and fell asleep.

She woke to a loud banging or hammering. Momentary confusion until she remembered where she was. Someone was jemmying the crate open. Cautiously Jill assumed a kneeling pose for her new owner.

The lid was lifted off and Jill blinked in the light. Jill looked up into the smiling face of Cathy, "So did you enjoy being auctioned, slave?"