Content warnings: BDSM Fantasy, non-consensual, F/f, lesdom, kidnapping, sex slavery, bondage, background F/m, implied M/f, Alexa, The Greenwood Family

This scene is an expanded version of the Crying/Psycho prompt seen here. 

Alexa didn’t make many friends in her line of work. She was a slaver. Trust was a valuable and dangerous commodity when your colleagues and customers would happily sell or buy you alongside the actual product. More than one of them had even tried it. It was one of many reasons Alexa started her own operation instead of leaving herself vulnerable to the kinds of unscrupulous people who might be tempted to offer up one of their employees for the right price.

Still, over the years Alexa had met a few people she might call friends. And on one cool fall day, at a remote cabin Alexa rented out for the week, she smiled as one of them strolled up the gravel, leaf-covered driveway.

“Lydia!” the gorgeous black woman greeted Lydia Greenwood with a hug and a kiss on the cheeks.

The two women had known each other years before Lydia married Charles Greenwood or Alexa had gone into business for herself. They had been colleagues once, years ago. Wary of each other at first, they’d settled into an alliance of safety within the organization they had worked for. They watched each other’s backs, and by the time Lydia left to get married they had become something like friends.

“It’s been too long, Alexa,” Lydia said as they stepped apart. She wore a wry, friendly smile. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Thank you, I thought it was time for a change.” Alexa spent years keeping her hair wavy but had recently put it all into small, thin box braids.

“And how’s business?”

Lydia had gone out of her way to buy from Alexa when she first started out. That long business relationship, along with their friendly history, was why Alexa allowed Lydia to buy from her in-person instead of dealing at a distance and shipping the product to her. And why Lydia was willing to go so far out of her way to do so. They trusted each other as much as one could in their world.

Alexa smirked. “Booming. I’ve got a well-oiled machine running. And today I have a nice selection for you to look over, all of them acquired in the last two months.”

Lydia’s friendly expression turned hungry. “That’s what I like to hear. I always know I can count on you.”

Alexa replied with a polite, exaggerated bow. A gesture she would not make for many of her customers, joking or otherwise. “Shall we go inside?”

“In a moment,” Lydia’s smile grew a little stiff. “I told you I might be bringing along—ah, here she is.”

The door of Lydia’s expensive looking SUV opened up, and out stepped her daughter Samantha Greenwood. Alexa privately marveled at how much the younger woman resembled her mother. A little shorter, perhaps. And her hair was worn out long instead of the sensibly stylish way Lydia had hers tied back. But apart from those minor differences, Samantha was the spitting image of Lydia.

“I thought Samantha could help me pick out her father’s birthday present this year.”

“Hello Ms. Meyer,” Samantha’s smile was radiant, polite, and fake as hell in the same way most rich society people smiled. Alexa didn’t take it personally. Given the way Lydia had tensed up it probably had more to do with some mother-daughter spat than anything else. What was Samantha now, nineteen? Twenty? An age where butting heads with mommy was normal. She would probably get catty as she and Lydia were alone again.

“And hello to you Miss Greenwood. It’s nice to finally meet you in the flesh. Have you been enjoying that redheaded boy you bought from me? I was always fond of that one. I picked him up myself.”

Samantha didn’t quite frown, but her nose wrinkled up in restrained annoyance. “I had to sell him. I think he went to… France?”

“Germany,” Lydia supplied. Alexa could tell she was suppressing a scowl at her daughter’s blunt words. She always did hate it when people were overly rude.

“Yeah, there. He was fun while he lasted, but such a pain.”

Alexa laughed and made a mental note to add to what she knew of Samantha’s preferences. “He was always a stubborn one. Next time let’s see if we can get you someone a little more docile.”

Alexa rarely did custom orders—Samantha bought the redhead in question at one of her standard auctions—but she was willing to make an exception for long-standing customers like the Greenwood family.

“But for now, how about we go inside and check out what’s for sale?”

The Greenwood women made agreeable noises and allowed Alexa to take them inside the cabin. It wasn’t her actual base of operations, of course. Nor was it a place Alexa ever stayed or lived at herself. She didn’t trust any of her customers enough to show them her base of operations. Not even the Greenwoods. Alexa only ever sold in-person at places like this. Temporary and never the same place twice.

In the main room of the cabin were five women, all of them bound, gagged, blindfolded, and kneeling on a luxuriously comfortable-looking rug. Sturdy leather cuffs kept all their arms bound at the wrists and most of their elbows, with another pair hobbling each of them at the knees. Nice, fat ballgags of various sizes were stuffed into each mouth and thick padded blindfolds kept them insensate to the world without ruining their styled hair.

They were all naked, faint red remnants of punishments and corrections visible on some of their breasts, bellies, and butts. Nothing permanent, but as Alexa told Lydia they were all were fairly recent captures. Misbehavior was to be expected.

Two of Alexa’s people loomed silently over the bitches in the corners. They were ready to act if any of the sluts got any funny ideas, but for the most part was just part of the background.

“As you can see,” Alexa paced in front of her products, “I’ve provided you with a variety of potential gifts for your husband. Five sluts for you to look over, each with their own characteristics. Some of them are muscular, in case the birthday boy is in the mood for a new pony. This blonde here used to run marathons. And some of them are softer. This plump Asian beauty for example, she used to be a cook.” Alexa tapped the curvy woman next to her with one of her booted feet.

The bitch whimpered at her touch, drawing smiles from every free woman in the room.

In practice there were four women for sale, not five. The first woman in line was a non-starter. She was a tall-ish, muscular black woman who bared a quiet resemblance to Alexa herself. Same build, similar heights, the tone of their dark skin was very close. Alexa even had her hair done up in a high ponytail that matched her own.

Alexa and Lydia’s friendship only went so far, after all. Despite their history—or even because of it—Alexa knew Lydia and Charles would be willing to own her if they got a real chance at it. The trick was to never give them that chance, and part of that was letting them know she knew they would try to take her if they could. Whenever Lydia came to buy from Alexa, the slaver tried to have one item that looked like her.

The amusedly chastised look Lydia sent Alexa’s way when she laid eyes on the slave clearly told Alexa that Lydia knew what she was doing. Alexa winked back, and Lydia breezed past the slave without comment.

Samantha, on the other hand…

“I like this one,” the younger woman crouched down and grasped the captive black woman by a nipple. The bound gagged woman let out a muffled cry as Samantha abruptly gave it a hard pinch and twist.

Alexa chuckled at the embarrassed look on Lydia’s face. She’d spied the younger woman giving her a once-over when Samantha thought she wasn’t looking. It was hardly surprising to see she took after her parents in that regard too.

“Let’s check out the rest before we make any hard decisions, dear.”

Samantha scoffed but obeyed her mother and stepped back.

As always, Lydia examined each slave with a critical eye. She made her purchases carefully, always had, and Alexa answered her every question with practiced ease, knowing well the kinds of things Lydia and her husband liked in their slaves. Lydia was a utilitarian, she enjoyed managing and handling her property, while Charles was playful. He didn’t really have a set type, but simply enjoyed poking and prodding.

It didn’t take too long before Lydia was zeroing in on the cute, fit brunette with a neat bob cut. Alexa didn’t know if the bitch was about to become a ponygirl or a bed slave, she could do either just fine, but she was confidant this would be the sale.

But judging by the way Samantha was focusing on the last of the five slaves, Alexa had a feeling she had a chance of making a double sale today.

“Is this one crying?”

The last in a row of five slaves—a tall, pale girl with long curly black hair—was sniffling quietly in place. But that wasn’t the detail Alexa focused on. She barely paid the slave any attention at all. Instead, she focused on Samantha Greenwood’s growing smile.

It was far more genuine than the polite, but fake society-smiles Samantha had made so far. This was real, intense, and powerful. Sadism given face.

The forty-four-year-old black woman saw a marked contrast between Samantha and her parents. She’d sold to the Greenwoods for years and knew Lydia as a colleague before she was a customer. The matriarch of the family was strict and cruel, but not for its own sake. Charles was playful but liked to poke and prod more than anything else.

One look at the vicious smile on Samantha’s face as she examined the crying slave told Alexa all she needed to know. The slaver had no doubt the youngest Greenwood was the most sadistic.

“Good eye,” Alexa complimented as she prowled over to stand behind the bound, gagged, and blindfolded girl. Her hands found a firm grip on a pair of thin, shaking shoulders. “This item was acquired last week. Just eighteen years old—we checked—got on a bus and left home only to end up with me. Isn’t that right, slut?”

Her gripped tightened on the bitch’s shoulders, and the pathetic thing’s answering nod was broken up by a quiet sob.

Alexa heard Samantha’s breath hitch. The younger woman’s eyes came alight with the kind of expectant excitement that could only come from a spoiled rich girl who rarely the word “no.”

A glance over to Samantha’s mother told Alexa she was about to sell two slaves instead of one. Lydia came out to this remote cabin Alexa rented to make this in-person sale, to buy a birthday present for her husband. The look on her face made it obvious that she was resigning herself to buying two.

Alexa’s saleslady smile grew a little more real as she looked back to the little psycho that was helping her hit pay dirt. Samantha was busy pinching the shivering slave’s bare vulnerable breasts.

“If you’d like to sample,” Alexa’s voice was barely more than a whisper, “You could take her into the private room over there.”

Samantha couldn’t leave the room fast enough. She dragged the whimpering waif to her feet. Watching her stumble along behind the young woman was fun.

“Don’t worry,” Alexa spoke up before Lydia could. “I’ll give you a little discount on both. Two for one deal.”

“Thank you,” Lydia’s voice was laced with just a little bit of sarcasm. “She doesn’t have a great deal of impulse control.”

Alexa hummed noncommittedly. It wasn’t her place to pride into her old friend’s parenting difficulties. She was just here to sell slaves.

“So you'll be buying the brunette?”

Lydia’s eyes came up sharply. Annoyance flashed there, more at herself for allowing herself to be read than at Alexa for reading her. “I’ve half a mind to buy one of the others, just because you said that.”

She kept the glare up for a good ten seconds before both of them burst out laughing.

The two weren't really friends, but they were something close. And they could laugh like they were.