This is the first 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, non-consensual, bondage slavery, bondage, handcuffs, ballgags, slave auction, voter-driven, sensory deprivation, hooded,
“Last but not least, our final item for the day is this gorgeous twenty-nine year old! Just look at her, everyone. Legs for days, luscious hair, one of the cutest pouts you’ll ever find, and you won’t be able to tell just by looking at her, but she’s a real, honest-to-goodness doctor!”
There was a faint undercurrent of interest as Rosa announced that. A small amount of voices murmured, which was good because it meant interest was building and bad because it meant at least a few of the buyers hadn’t read the catalog.
On the other hand, the item itself was having a fun reaction. The skinny bitch cringed away at the sights and sounds of her adoring audience taking in the sight of her. That wouldn’t do. Rosa grabbed her by the shoulder and made her step up and stand straight to show off off her perky and toned legs.
“She can be a handful in one-on-one settings. You might not be able to see that now—big
groups tend to make her nervous—but it’ll take an experienced hand to get the most out of her. There’s plenty of practical uses you can find for a trained medical professional, even if she didn’t have the brains to avoid ending up on our stage.” there was a smattering of laughter to make the bitch cringe some more. “But she isn’t just a doctor, she was a kinky slut long before we got out hands on her, with plenty of experience being tied up and pleasing a Master. In fact, it was one of those Masters who brought her to us to get out of some debt.”
That got a scowl out of the item. She glared at the reminder, and Rosa saw a few more buyers lean forward in their seats. Rosa just smiled.
“Bidding for this prize will begin at $30,000. Don’t let her pass you, how often do you get to buy a confirmed subby doctor?”
__________
WINNER: A younger owner looking for a sensory deprived toy!
__________
Leila hadn’t actually seen her master yet. Not since the auction, anyway. He must have been sitting there in the audience, and she must have looked at him among the small crowd of faces, some leering and some dispassionate. But Leila barely remembered any of them. All she really knew about her master was that he was a he, judging by his voice and his penis, and that he was rich as hell. The price he paid for Leila had been higher than her med school loan debts. She couldn't get that thought out of her head.
A blindfold had been pulled tight over her eyes soon after her purchase, in the backroom. It was a tight, thick leather thing that covered half her face. There was a hole for her nose, which made it a lot harder to try and shake off. The blindfold reached down to touch the top of her gagged lips. The goons never stripped Leila out of that stripper-worthy leopard print set of boots and bikini, and she was still wearing it when she arrived after hours and hours of travel to her “new home.”
Leila still hadn’t seen the place from the outside. She doubted she ever would.
Once Leila arrived at her destination the staff (her master had staff that was willing to help him keep her captive!) had hustled her into some kind of playroom and forced her to kneel on a mat. Her knees were still covered by the tops of her boots, but she could tell from the way other footsteps sounded on the floor that the carpet outside of the mat would give her rug burn. She was still wearing the same handcuffs she had been at the auction. They can’t have taken her too far from that place.
“The Master will be in shortly,” announced a voice in front of Leila. A woman’s voice. “If you know what’s good for you, you will not resist or struggle in any way. Is that understood?”
Leila felt her indignation return. Her courage was easy enough to call on when she was up against one or two people at a time, and always seemed to abandon her when faced with too many more than that. But she wasn’t stupid. Blindfolded and bound as she was, Leila had no intention of giving this bastard any excuse to punish her.
So she nodded, grudgingly.
“Good. Remain kneeling until he comes to play. And do not resist.”
Leila grumbled, but did as she was told.
*
Robert’s heart was pounding hard when he stepped into the room, barefoot. His very own slave. Not one of his parents’ or aunts’ toys they let him play with, his. All his to do with as he pleased. And just look at her! Robert had known she was the one for him the very instant he saw her picture in the catalog. Some of the others had tempted him, but one look at those endless legs, that gorgeous mane of hair, and that fierce look in his eyes had been all Robert needed.
Now she was his, kneeling obediently in the center of one of his playrooms, ready and waiting for him. Robert giggled. He hated the way his voice cracked a little as he did, he was twenty years old for god’s sake, but he couldn't help it.
She heard him. Robert’s gorgeous slave turned her head toward him when his unmanly giggle escaped his throat. The blindfold held, as instructed. Robert doubted he would ever let her see him. He wasn’t sure why that was what he wanted, but after a lifetime of almost never hearing the word “no” he’d never learned to question his desires. Robert got what he wanted, period.
The young man paced around his prize, taking in every detail of her. Her hair was a little splayed out after all the traveling she had done, and she was slouching too much for his tastes. He would have to have his people correct her, but it would do for now. She was still the sexy slave he bid on.
And she was very aware of his presence, visibly trying to follow him with blindfolded eyes and straining to hear any hint of his intentions. Robert chuckled again, without his voice cracking this time. After circling her a few times he started to draw closer, and closer, until he was reading to reach out and poke.
She jolted as if shocked, a squeal escaping her gagged mouth. Robert abruptly remembered that she was supposed to be a doctor, and outright laughed this time. He reached out again, and this time kept his finger where it was, at the center of her back. She stiffened, but didn’t jump again. Not even when he started to move his finger, tracing it in loop d loops. He added his other finger to her shoulder, running it up and down.
Then, without warning, Robert took one of his hands away to deliver a hard smack to her ass.
“MMMMPH!” she squealed, more in surprise than pain. Robert aimed another two or four, avoiding her hands as he smacked at both cheeks, before changing gears. Now his left hand was in front of her, pulling her back against his chest while he grabbed at one of her breasts and began groping, soon to be followed by his other hand on his other breast. She grunted in discomfort half a second before Roberte pinched both of nipples beneath the bikini and twisted.
It was impossible to tell how long he was down there, toying with his new slave. Introducing himself to as much of her body as he wanted to. He didn’t say a word to her, just played. By the time he was done her ass and breasts were bare and red, her discarded bikini off to the side while her boots were still on. Both Master and slave sweating and panting.
Julianne, Robert’s personal maid, was waiting outside the door when he was done, patiently as ever. She gave him a patient look as he caught his breath.
“Next time I want her ears plugged too,” he said. “No wait! I want her in a hood on top of that. So she can’t drool all over me like she did this time. Got it?”
“Of course, Master,” she said with a bowing nod.
“Oh, and you might as well have her give checkups to the other slaves. She’s supposed to be a doctor, we might as well use that.”
Julianne blinked, which was more surprise than Robert usually saw her express, but recovered quickly. “Very good.”
“And I don’t want her to see my face right away, maybe not for a long time. I’m thinking–”
*
Leila’s life settled into a strange new routine. She spent most of the day alone, locked in a tiny little cell with a small TV and a shockingly comfortable twin sized bed. Her unseen master let her have an ebook tablet and one download a day, which she only used every couple of days because she didn’t read a book a day.
At some point she would be taken out to a gym room to exercise. The master didn’t want her to lose her physique, after all. Once done she might be taken to another room to look at some chronic pain or cough one of the other “staff” had, which was never anything that actually required a doctor to look at. One time she’d given a maid a few stretches to do so she wouldn’t strain her arms so much, but that was as exciting as that got. Maybe more would happen during flu season.
And, of course, there were her “sessions” with her master.
The first few times were mostly the same, with the additions of the ear plugs and the hood. blindfolded, hooded, and kneeling. Handcuffed and ballgagged while he toyed with her, played with her like she was a doll to be manipulated and felt. At some point he started changing up her bindings. She would go into the playroom with an armbinder instead of handcuffs.
Leila’s master was a young man, and she didn’t need his voice to crack to know that. He was just… immature, and too energetic to be any older than mid-twenties.
Then the bondage grew more intricate, and strict. She was hogtied on the floor one day, and the next she was strung up on a St. Andrew’s Cross. Over the course of that first month she was forced into a strappado, spread-eagled on a bed, her legs were frogtied, and then she was mummified. It was around this time the young master started bringing in toys other than Leila. Crops and paddles. Vibrators and feathers to tickle her with. Anything to make her squirm at his touch like a good, responsive toy.
Once that first month passed, the master started having Leila put into a hood and her ears plugged up long before it was time for him to play with her. The longer she was insensate to the world, the stronger her reactions were when he had his fun.
On one memorable night she had been hogtied, suspended in the air, and left there for what felt like hours before she abruptly felt the hard sting of a crop on her belly. Her stomach had been even more red than her ass the next day.
Not long after that, he started taking away Leila’s sense of touch by having her dressed up in a lot of leather. A lot, muting the sensation of anything on her skin.
Vibrators embedded into her vagina and rectum soon became frequent guests, along with pairs that were taped onto her nipples. Sometimes they would all be attached before she went into a sleep sack or leather suit, other times they would be left on all day before being ripped out or cropped off.
Nowadays Leila would even be blindfolded while doing her gym exercises, hustled from the treadmill to one of the machines without being allowed to see any of it.
Today she had been encased in a heavy leather suit, her arms strapped in front by the straitjacket-like arms, her legs wrapped up in tape before being inserted into the sack like mermaid tail of a bottom half, and the heavy head part burying most of her skin under more leather than Leila would like to picture.
“I think you’ll be in there for… I don’t know, let’s say between two and five hours,” gloated her master.
In the early days Leila might have growled at him. Now? She let herself be enveloped by her leather cocoon and settled in to wait for playtime. This was her life now, just a toy that could only see, hear, or touch when her master said she could.