This is part of a voter-driven story. After each scene is posted, a new poll will be put up so voters can collectively decide what happens next.
Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, F/m, femdom, non-consensual, bondage slavery, bondage, handcuffs, ballgags, slave auction, voter-driven, chastity, plugs
“Our fourth item is also our only male product on offer today. Come on boy, step on up.”
The recalcitrant man was hesitating, dragging his feet a little. Anything to avoid stepping closer to Rosa’s outstretched, groping hand. It lasted as long as it took for his handler (a man who looked unhappy at being stuck dragging the only slave that wasn’t a hot lady) to give him a little shove forward. From there Rosa got a good, firm grip on the man’s ass, digging her fingers in as she brought up forward for the viewing pleasure of tje audience.
“Don’t let his shyness fool you, ladies and gentlemen. Lot Number Four here is a good boy. He might growl at you, but his bark is much worse than his bite. It’s all for show. A quick swat to the bottom or simply raising a crop will get him in line. Just watch.”
Rosa paused long enough to give him a hard smack on the ass, unprotected by a speedo that only covered his privates. His pained yelp sounded loudly through the room and his face grew red from shame.
“And once you do the minor work of getting him in line he’s a fine item. Physically fit, and rather handsome if I do say so myself. He has responded well to his oral training and is known to have introduced ropes to girlfriends in the past. And if none of that interests you he’d make a fine laborer or handyman.
“Bidding will begin at $15,000.”
__________
WINNER: An owner buying a slave as a treat for their favorite slave at home.
__________
From the moment he woke up after drinking that drugged rum and coke, Gavin hadn’t been able to picture anything worse than being a slave, the life his kidnappers promised was waiting for him. Once they sold him it turned out that there was something worse: being a slave’s slave.
He remembered seeing them, both his owner and the slave she gave him to, at the auction. The Mistress was a tall, heavyset black woman and Heather a slim brunette hanging on her arm like an excited puppy. He never would have guessed Heather was a slave from that glimpse and hadn’t figured it out until he actually made it to their home.
“Eyes down, bitch!”
Gavin grunted, but obeyed, turning his eyes down. He had learned to obey when Heather yelled at him, and Heather yelled at him a lot. At the moment he was being a footrest for her. He was stuck on his hands and knees, her feet resting on the small of his back. The stockings she was wearing felt soft on his bare skin. There was a perfectly good ottoman over in the corner, but she only used that when she was making Gavin do other things, like massage her feet or fetch her a drink or some other bullshit.
The air conditioned temperature of the room made him want to shiver in his “outfit” of tight bike shorts–which had a hole cut out for his caged up dick–along with a collar, a hood, and a pair of leather pouches that kept his handles in useless fists. Which, by the way, weren’t super comfortable to be resting his weight on.
“I mean seriously. How many times do I have to say it before it finally sinks in? I don’t take forever to figure things out, so I know it’s not that hard. Are you just stupid, or what?”
Jesus, he’d only looked up to check what time it was. What was the big deal?
When Gavin was first bought by Heather’s owner and told what his new “job” would be, he’d been relieved. Another slave wouldn’t be too harsh with him, right? She knew what was up, she knew what it was like to deal with all this bullshit. She would be nice to him, and he’d be happy to help her out. It all made sense.
Except not. It turned out that Heather didn’t care that she was in the same boat as her new “pet.” She just wanted someone to boss around like she got bossed around. Only, the Mistress was actually pretty nice to Heather. Spoiled her, even. She bought her her own slave as a treat, didn’t she? But Heather was hell of a lot harsher to her slave than her Mistress was to her.
Gavin tried telling Heather to fuck off at first. He’d refused to do anything she said. That had lasted for maybe a week or so, until she admitted what was happening to the Mistress. The Lady of the household had not been happy with that, and promptly showed Gavin that Heather wasn’t anywhere near as bad to him as their owner was. Then she punished Heather too, both for waiting so long to tell her about the situation and for making her suffer the presence of the lone male slave among her property.
The Mistress didn’t care for men, in her own words. Heather was under strict orders to not let her even see Gavin. That was why he was stuck inside her room, for the most part, and why he had to sneak around when he had to get Heather a drink or a snack.
After that first punishment, all it took for Heather to get Gavin back in line was a threat to deliver him back to the Mistress. Gavin didn’t want that. He’d rather be a footrest.
“Ugh,” Heather eventually groaned. It was accompanied by the sound of her tablet flopping on the couch cushion. “I’m bored.”
Oh, great. That never meant anything good.
Gavin forced himself to hold absolutely still, practically holding his breath. He didn’t want Heather to think of him. If he moved around too much while her stockinged legs were still on his back, she’d get annoyed and decide to mess with him. If he was the first thing she noticed while trying to figure out what to do, she’d mess with him. If he did anything at all, she’d–
“Stand up, bitch.”
–mess with him.
Fuck.
Heather moved her feet off his back. Gavin let out a deep, low breath as he made his way to his feet, got into his proper position–feet shoulder length apart, hands behind his back–and turned to face her, now seated in a lotus position on the couch. He didn’t look directly at her, but he could still see most of her body on the edge of his vision.
She was gorgeous. Maybe it was just that she was basically the only person he’d been allowed to see since he was brought here, but it was incredibly hard not to look at her. Heather was slender, with lightly tanned skin and perfectly silky long brown hair. Her face was too high up for Gavin to glimpse, but he could see that hair falling down her body. She was wearing what she usually wore for her Mistress, a whole set of luxurious lingerie, complete with the stockings that had been on Gavin’s back moments earlier. Today it was all in black, perfectly complimenting her figure, showing off her tits, and framing her legs.
Gavin felt his cock try to stiffen up in its cage.
“I just had an idea for a game we can play. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
Gavin nodded. He couldn't talk with the plug gag hidden behind his zippered up mask.
Not that a game sounded like fun. He’d had his fill of Heather’s games after the time she challenged him to a race to see who could orgasm faster. She’d ordered him to masterbate himself while she was burying her double-dildo vibrating strap-on in his ass. He’d won, and promptly learned that Heather was a sore loser.
He hadn’t orgasmed much since then, and her other games weren’t much better.
“I’ll start by setting the mood,” she picked her tablet back up, and with a few stabs of her finger, the vibrators at the base of Gavin’s cock cage and in the plug that was currently up his ass came to life. The intensity was just low enough that Gavin didn’t flinch, but he couldn’t stop himself from grunting aloud.
Heather giggled at his discomfort. “You’re getting good at walking around with your vibrators on, aren’t you bitch? Let me make it a little more challenging for you…”
She cranked up the intensity.
“Mmmmmmmmmmm,” Gavin moaned aloud. His knees went weak and he had to force himself to stay upright.
“That’s more like it. It’s no fun if it’s too easy for you. Now–”
A chime sound came from the tablet. It would have been soothing if you didn’t know what it meant. The Mistress was calling for her.
Heather’s reaction sounded like something between a pout and a scowl. “Right when I was about to have fun.”
She looked up, now glaring. “Don’t move a muscle. You stay right there and I’ll be back whenever. Got it? Actually, no. Get on your knees.”
Gavin whimpered, hating himself for it.
“Did I fucking stutter? Get on your knees!”
Bowing his head, Gavin gingerly repositioned himself onto his knees.
“Keep your back straight!”
It was not a comfortable position to be in. Gavin hated being on his knees. He’d always tried to avoid it when working before his kidnapping. It never took long before they started aching.
“Now you stay there and don’t move. If I come back and find you anywhere else, it’s your ass. And don’t get any precum on my carpet, got it? You’ll be cleaning it up if you do.”
And then she was gone, marching straight out of the room to pleasure her Mistress, leaving her own slave to suffer as he waited.
About five minutes–maybe less, maybe more–after she left, the vibrators’ intensity jumped up another notch or two. Shit. Had Heather done that, the Mistress, or was it automatically set to cycle through the options? There was no way to know, just like there wasn’t any way to know how long Heather would be gone for. Another fifteen minutes? An hour? Two?
“Fuugh,” Gavin swore into his gag.
It was going to be a long day.