Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, non-consensual, bondage, femdom, F/m, lesdom, F/f, maledom, M/f, bondage slavery, sexual slavery, feminization, chastity, slave auction, harems, period costumes, the Greenwood family
Samantha Greenwood was not the world’s most patient person. She knew that about herself. It wasn’t as much of a problem as her mother believed. The young woman at least understood that she should always have something on hand to kill time with whenever she knew she would have to wait. Usually that was her phone, which she never went anywhere without anyway. But nearly as often she would pass the time with her favorite toys. And today, as she waited for the auction to begin…
A soft, high-pitched little whimper sounded next to Samantha. She smiled, then pushed the button on her favorite app to add a little shock to the vibrations she activated a minute ago. This time her toy let out a tiny shriek. Someone who wasn’t looking and didn’t know might never guess that it was a man whining and wailing like that. Especially since Samantha had dressed him in a sexy little pleated plaid skirt, thigh high socks, four inch heels, and a tight blouse that clung to his skin and revealed an enticing sliver of his midriff. Samantha had always hated wearing school uniforms when she was stuck at boarding schools, but seeing a slave dressed up in the sexy version always got her going.
The twinky boy toy Samantha bought as a Christmas present to herself was soft, small, pretty, and currently her favorite sex toy. His hair had grown to be a little more than shoulder length since his owner decided not to cut it, which made him look even more like a slutty schoolgirl.
Beneath his skirt was both a high quality cock cage capable of shocking or vibing him with the press of a button, and a fat butt plug with the same options. So far Samantha had focused on the plug she sprung on him without warning, which was currently vibrating away at a medium-high setting; but with the press of a button she could deliver a harsh shock to his ‘manhood.’
“Aaauuugh!” He cried out, his voice rising to a speaking volume instead of being quiet as instructed. Samantha saw a couple of heads turn in his direction. One of them, a man, looked annoyed. Samantha rolled her eyes. Everyone could see him fingering the rope-bound slut on his lap. Where did he get off disapproving of anyone else?
“Shut up,” Samantha still said to her slave. She wore a smirk. “We talked about this, remember? Keep your mouth shut at the auction.”
And with the press of a button, she delivered another shock.
This time he managed to keep his mouth shut, though Samantha still heard him groaning behind his lips. Her smirk grew more vicious, but she decided to give him a break. From the shocks, anyway. She kept the vibrations active enough to tease him.
Samantha and her sex slave, the annoyed man and his sex slave, and a decent crowd of other people with their sex slaves were seated and waiting in a sizable auditorium. Not so massive a facility that it could pack in hundreds of people, but more intimate.
Like everyone else, Samantha was seated on a comfortably cushioned chair at a table. The auditorium was almost but not quite a theater, with a stage dominating the space and a multitude of tables arranged for all occupants to look at that stage. Most tables were filled by groups of two or three, not counting the slaves some of the audience brought along. This expansive yet intimate room was an important part of the extremely exclusive and secretive resort all the guests were paying top dollar to stay in. Samantha was seated alone, since her twinky slut knelt at her side instead of getting a chair.
The young woman wore a fine and somewhat old-fashioned burgundy gown with long matching gloves on her arms. That was why she was focusing on screwing with her toy remotely instead of pinching at him like she normally might. Wearing an older type of dress seemed appropriate for tonight’s auction. Samantha had styled her blonde-highlighted hair in a classically wavy style as well. It rested neatly over her shoulder and chest, covering one ear and most of one breast.
Samantha was starting to grow impatient. She’d arrived with some time to spare, if only to get a table with a halfway decent view of the stage. Now she was stuck waiting, and messing with her pet twink could only amuse her for so long when she knew what was coming.
The lights abruptly dimmed, as if Samantha’s thoughts were the signal to begin the auction. Miss Greenwood felt her smirk grow with her anticipation into a ferocious grin. She set aside her phone in favor of the tablet provided to her on entry, not bothering to modify the settings to lessen the vibrations eating at her toy’s cock and ass. It wasn’t out of her usual playful cruelty, Samantha was simply no longer thinking about anything other than the stage before her.
A woman with pitch-dark hair and wearing a figure hugging light grey suit stepped onto the stage. Her click-clacking heels thundered, the sound carried by the acoustics of a room designed to ensure everyone could hear what was happening as clearly as possible. The headset and microphone clearly visible on her ear probably weren’t even necessary.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Baneford Historical Society's Auction Fundraiser in support of the Baneford Northeast History Museum. My name is Miss Parsons, and it is my very great pleasure to see how many of you came out here tonight in support of our great cause. It is thanks to your generous support that our partnership with the museum can continue.”
Samantha snorted. That was tonight’s gimmick, that the auction was supposed to look like the kind of charity fundraiser you could buy real historical artifacts at. She herself had been to her fair share of those. A lot of people were surprised to learn Samantha Greenwood had an interest in history. No one ever seemed to expect an heiress to have any interests beyond fashion, gossip, and maybe music. Samantha got a kick out of the surprised looks she got when she mentioned some relatively obscure historical factoid, and an even bigger kick right after that when they looked embarrassed for having underestimated her.
But the very best reactions came from Samantha’s toys. Take Twinky, for example. The way his eyes bugged out in shock the first time she put on a documentary about the Ptolemaic Dynasty while she was in the middle of giving him some bastinado fun? Priceless.
The overhead lights of the audience area dimmed as Miss Parsons finished her speech, leaving only the stage fully lit. Samantha kept her table lamp on as well, only dimming it to its lowest intensity. It hurt her eyes when a tablet screen was the only source of nearby light. Most of the other guests turned theirs off for the moment, but Samantha wasn’t the only one to leave hers on. She kept her given tablet in easy reach of her left hand, and with her right she absently petted and stroked her kneeling slave’s head.
Medieval sounding trumpet music began to blare over the auditorium’s speakers. At exactly the same time the wall-sized screen at the back of the stage changed. The dark, indistinct colors that Samantha had mistaken for the actual wall were replaced by a gorgeous high resolution image of a castle at the center of a massive forest. Mountains loomed in the distance. The castle itself looked new and gleamed in the sunlight while colorful banners hung from the towers and ramparts.
“I used to go on vacation in castles,” Samantha whispered to her slave. She felt his head turn so he could better hear her. What a good boy. “I’d spend a few nights sleeping like a real princess. I should do it again sometime. But this time I could take you and some of my other sluts off to a place. Would you like that, twinky? You’d get to squeal in a real castle.”
The whimpering boy toy was saved from having to answer by the host’s voice sounding above the trumpet music.
“Presenting our first set of items for the night. Straight from a sleepy little French town not too far away from a castle just like this one are Queen Margot and Princess Adeline!”
Two figures stepped out onto the stage at her words. Well. Four figures, really. But Samantha saw no reason to count the darkly dressed, leash holding men who were there to ensure their charges remained under control. All eyes in the room focused exclusively on the women at the other end of those leashes.
That was the event’s other selling point, apart from the historical theme. All the lots up for auction tonight were pairs. Although Samantha suspected a few of them might be trios or even larger groups.
Both items currently on stage were dressed up in amazing medieval style court dresses, complete with split sleeves that fell down to their knees, voluminous amounts of fabric, and even some classic high middle age hennin hats. Around their mouths were velvet cloths tied taut over the lower halves of their faces. No doubt there were more secure gags underneath that material, but the image worked well. Their wrists were bound in front of their bodies with almost horseshoe shaped shackles, metal gleaming under the stage lights.
“I think those shackles are real,” Samantha whispered the words to herself more than her slave. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure those are what a medieval noblewoman might actually be chained up with if she were captured.”
The older of the pair, the queen, wore a dress of burgundy and blue, its bodice tight and cut down to reveal far more cleavage than a real queen would be caught wearing. The princess slave’s gown was pink and violet, and on her head was the classic conical kind that Samantha herself had owned two or three of when she was a kid. A translucent veil even fell down from the tip of it, mixing with the equally see-through material that revealed the younger item’s blonde hair. The queen’s headgear was split into two stubbier cones. They hid her hair better than the princess’ headgear. There was another word for that kind of hennin, but it escaped Samantha at that particular moment.
If Samantha were still in her childhood princess phase she would be salivating to own these bitches. Her finger would already be pressing down on the tablet’s “bid” button. As things stood, she only pulled it up to take a look at some of the profile pictures of the slaves’ bodies that weren’t covered up by their wonderful outfits. The princess was a real blonde, complete with carpet matching drapes, and Samantha found herself tempted by the thought of seeing the queen’s bright blue eyes up close…
At the moment the queen was keeping those beautiful eyes aimed squarely at the ground. She was trying to remain stoic, but even from across the room Samantha could see the way she shook in place. Those wide eyes gave her away entirely.
That was nothing compared to the princess, whose gaze jumped wildly around the room, staring at the leering and appraising looks she was getting from the crowd and whichever bidder would soon own her and her… mother? Were they mother and daughter? Samantha thought they looked a bit too close in age for that.
“They aren’t real royalty, of course,” spoke the presenter as the princess and queen were led around the stage for everyone to inspect. “But they are both bona fide French nobility. Aged twenty-eight and nineteen. No direct genetic relation, I’m sorry to say. Queenie here is the Princesses’ stepmother, having married into the family last year. They get along very well and were even acquired while on vacation together. So they’re perfect if you don’t want to have to put up with too much drama.”
The princess let out an audible whimper, eliciting laughs from the audience. Samantha herself gripped her twink’s hair as she set the tablet aside. She wasn’t going to bid on these two, but she could still enjoy the show.
“As far as their heritage goes, both of their families claim descent from real royalty if you’re willing to go back far enough, and our organization did exactly that. As far as we can tell, those pedigrees are real. Hopefully that will be enough to earn your forgiveness for introducing them as a queen and princess.”
Another, smaller set of chuckles emanated from the bidders.
The presenter went, describing the pair in exacting detail. Their measurements, their histories, the fact that Princess Slut was a better English speaker than Queen Stepmommy, and everything else their eventual buyer might want to know. There were also details about their costumes, and how both the headgear and the shackles around their wrists were authentic. That bit of information almost tempted Samantha into bidding. Not so much for the shackles, she wasn’t big on chains, but she would love to own those hennin hats.
The bidding was silent, done entirely through the tablets provided to every guest. After some time, the presenter abandoned the sales pitch to say something else.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it has now been a full minute since the last bid. If anyone else would like to bid, this will be your final chance. Going once… going twice… three times… sold!”
The pronouncement seemed to break something in Queen Stepmommy, who could abruptly be heard breathing very loudly on stage. She and her stepdaughter were dragged off stage before she could make too much of a scene while the presenter offered the buyer her congratulations, reminded the bidders that all purchased items would be delivered to the buyer’s room in several hours so they could play with their new toys, and then moved on to the next lot without wasting any time.
“For our next set of items we will be journeying to an entirely different time and place. From the Kingdom of France to India’s Mughal Empire!”
The music shifted from blaring trumpets to the sounds of sharp sitars while the screen wall changed again. Now it showed the splendid interior of an Indian palace. Stunning and opulent architecture and decorations were plain to see, with gold and white walls and beautifully colorful pieces hanging all around. Samantha had no doubt this was a photograph of a real place, even if she didn’t recognize it. Indian history wasn’t one of the subjects she’d spent a lot of time on. All she really knew about the Mughal Empire was that they were the ones in charge when the British showed up. Which meant…
“That’s not that different of a time. It’s a completely different place, sure, but it’s only a couple hundred years after the medieval stuff they were showing would have been used.”
Samantha had now taken her hand off her boy’s head to rest on her lap, but she could see him shooting a confused, questioning glance her way before returning his attention to the stage. He didn’t know how to respond to his owner’s words. In the past he might have tried to respond anyway, but by now he’d learned his place well enough that he kept his mouth shut. Samantha was only thinking out loud, not looking for a response.
Another pair of slaves was brought out onto the stage. Two slender Indian women, who unlike the last pair were obviously related. Twins, most likely. If not that, they were sisters who were done up to look as identical as possible. Maybe cousins, but probably twins.
“Our next lot are, as you can see, a pair of identical twins. They are twenty-two years of age and come to you directly from the heart of what was once Mughal territory. No pedigree for these two, unfortunately. But we feel that the mere sight of their shared beauty speaks for itself.”
Both of the women wore saris, one green and one orange. The colorful, sash-like dresses were exquisitely embroidered from top to bottom, glittering gold designs flaring out from every edge of the material while intricate designs and patterns decorated the rest without overwhelming the colors. Jewelry also shone out from the collars around their necks, their earrings, and a magnificent set of bracelets on each right wrist. Matching tight gold shirts completed both ensembles.
Their bondage, however, was surprisingly simple. The twins’ arms were not bound at all. No rope, no chains, no anything. There was exactly one chain, which was gold to match their outfits. running between the two collars they wore. That was it. They weren’t even gagged! And there was only one shadowy background guard to control both of them. Samantha took a closer look at their faces, noting how pleasantly blank their expressions were. They were totally docile.
“As you can also see from downright lenient restraints we’ve put them in, Nadira and Bahar are extremely well trained and obedient. Looking at them right now, you would never guess that they were particularly obstinate when first acquired. These two fought their betters at every turn and every opportunity. Despite this being their first auction, they have been in our organization's custody for quite some time. And we have gone to great lengths to ensure that time has paid off, as they will now demonstrate. Girls?”
The green one hesitated for one second longer than the orange one, and Samantha doubted she was the only one who noticed, but only for a second. After that, both twins stepped right up to each other to lock lips. They oozed sensuality as they kissed, their bodies ebbing and flowing together while the presenter continued on with her pitch.
Once again, Samantha found herself tempted. The level of training it would take to get a pair of slaves, relatives even, to make out like that was far beyond anything Samantha was capable of. The way they were going at each other… Samantha was positive that even her mother would have a hard time getting a pair of twins to do that to each other. Someone more native might even think they were actually attracted to each other.
But in the end, Samantha didn’t like it when her slaves were too well behaved. She wanted them to cringe and whimper for her, not meekly take everything she did to them. Without fully thinking about it, she reached for her phone to shock her own slave a few times, pressing it four or five times in about ten seconds and enjoying the surprised yet quiet little squeals she heard in response. In contrast, the “bid” button on her tablet went unpressed even as half the other guests couldn’t press down on their own screens fast enough. Someone was going to end up paying a lot of money to live out a twin threesome fantasy whenever they wanted.
Eventually the final call of “Sold!” came. The Sari-wearing twins separated, bowed to the audience and whoever had bought them, and followed their handler off the stage without a fuss.
“We now return to Europe, this time to the ultimate conquerors of the Mughal Empire.”
The screen wasted no time in transitioning to a Victorian sitting room. Ornate wood furniture, a classical painting on the wall, a fireplace off to the side, and a window showcasing some impressive landscape off in the corner, the works. The music too, became more familiar to Samantha’s ears.
“Our next pair of items is a bit unusual, but we simply could not resist the urge to bring our valued customers this unique opportunity.”
“That means these two won’t be impressive,” Samantha lectured her boy toy. “Uninteresting sluts that they’re hoping someone will take enough of an interest in to want to pay more than they’re worth.”
A man from a nearby table shot a glance her way. Did he think she was being too loud? Well tough shit.
Whatever that man might have been thinking, it was quickly forgotten when the next item for sale was brought out. Samantha looked up with only mild interest, impatient to get past this ‘unique opportunity’ to get to the more valuable pieces. But when she saw what was happening on the stage, she found herself perking up. Unlike any of the previous slaves, this lot of soon-to-be-sold women were struggling. It took Samantha a moment to really register either of their appearances because the security guys had to put in more effort to hold them still.
The first of this next pair of sex slaves was older than any other item so far. Probably middle-aged. Samantha guessed she was closer to fifty than forty, but it was hard to tell for sure when the rowdy bitch wouldn’t hold still. She was dressed in a dark purple Victorian style dress. Not a ball gown or anything fancy, the skirt wasn’t anywhere near big enough for that. It was the kind of dress some well off lady might have worn during the day. Simple-ish, with sleeves and a high neck collar that exposed very little skin. It hid so much of her body that it really shouldn’t have looked too good on her, but it managed to be surprisingly eye-catching anyway. Maybe it was a size or two too small? That might explain why it was doing such a good job hugging and emphasizing her figure.
Her bondage consisted of simple ropes, wrapped around her torso to enhance the framing of her figure. Above and below her breasts, and trapping her arms inescapably behind her back. A tight cleave gag was tied tightly in her mouth, splitting her lower jaw apart. Samantha could see another cloth hanging loosely from her neck and understood that the slave had shaken the outer, mouth covering layer of the gag loose.
The slave’s coppery red hair was done up in a classic nineteenth century updo, and accented by a slim hat that was definitely pinned in place. Probably with more than one pin, judging by how it stayed so still while she resisted every step the guards forced her to take.
Close behind and struggling almost as hard was a bleach blonde in a classic white and black uniform French maid that could have been sexier, but also didn’t cover nearly as much as her apparent ‘Mistress’s’ dress. That was no miniskirt hanging from her waist, but it didn’t reach all the way down to her knees either. And Samantha seriously doubted that un-enslaved maids wore corsets around their midriff like this one was, or long white gloves that traveled up to her elbows. The slut’s mouth was still covered with a flat cloth, since she wasn’t fighting hard enough to dislodge it like the other half of the lot had, and that bright hair was done in a simple braid that flung around behind her back. Ropes were wrapped around her torso in the same harness as the other one.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to thank you for your patience with this lot. As you can clearly see for yourself, this charming lady of Victorian Britain and her maid are not as well trained as either of our previous lots. Their disobedience is only natural, as they were acquired yesterday.”
A low yet very much audible murmur ran through the crowd as those words sunk in. Fresh, untrained slaves. Who didn’t want to get their hands on one of those every once in a while? Samantha found herself leaning in, now much more interested in this lot than she thought she would be.
Up on the stage, the reaction of the crowd had an effect on the ‘Lady’ and her maid. They had stopped struggling so hard, too busy staring out at the audience in obvious shock and horror. The guards took advantage of their abrupt stillness to wrap their hands firmly around their upper arms. Neither one of them would be able to struggle as much if they started up again.
“That’s right, we have two brand new sluts for sale tonight. No previous owners, no training, and barely any time to get them acquainted with their new station in life.” Miss Parsons brushed a loose strand of red hair out of the Lady slave’s face. It wasn’t enough to bring the older woman out of her shock. She remained stiff and staring.
Samantha took a moment to glance at the tablet, catching sight of the most basic profile shots of both slaves emblazoned across the screen. There were three images of both women. They both had one that was obviously taken when they were acquired, two straightforward profile shots of them looking disheveled and confused. The middle-aged redhead also had a professional looking midshot of herself in a nice suit, and a third image where she wore a simple black cocktail dress. On the other half of the screen, the blonde’s two other pictures showed her in a bikini at a beach and cut off jeans with a crop top at what looked like a concert. The bright smiles in the latter four pictures were a world apart from the horror on their faces on stage.
“Theirs is not a terribly uncommon story,” continued the presenter. “As all of you know, the Baneford Northeast History Museum is a part of our network. Its board will, when an opportunity presents itself, assist in arranging chances for our organization to acquire the services of promising young women and men—a quick reminder that the male auction will be held tomorrow night—in order to place them with employers such as yourselves, who will help them reach their full potential.”
The laughter was a bit more pronounced this time. For her part, Samantha let out an amused snort.
“As you can imagine, not everyone who works for our partners on the Museum’s Board are made aware of our assistance programs. Far too many people simply do not understand the exciting benefits and advantages we give to our recruits, so we have to go out of our way to keep things suitably quiet. The janitor, for instance, doesn’t need to know what happened to that sexy twenty year old who signed up for a museum-sponsored trip to an archaeological dig. Neither do nosy, newly hired curators or their recently graduated assistants.”
She paused, not only to give the curator and assistant in question a meaningful look, but to give the audience a few silent moments to look them over without distraction.
The former curator, the redhead lady Samantha found her eyes repeatedly drawn to, was coming out of her stunned stupor. She finally ripped her eyes off the audience to glare at the presenter, who in turn paid her no mind.
“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, this uppity bitch and her sidekick simply could not keep their noses out of other peoples’ business. They made a serious effort to expose our operation before they were found out and subdued. And now you, our generous supporters, have the chance to show them what they tried to ruin, up close and personal.
“Born and raised in London, our well-to-do lady here is as arrogant as they come. She’s a fighter, as you’ve seen for yourselves, and it will be an absolute delight to put the bitch in her place. I can’t speak for everyone working with me tonight, but I personally am more than a little jealous of whoever will be taking her home. As for her lovely assistant…”
Miss Parsons stepped over to swing an arm around the still stunned blonde maid’s shoulders, “She’s a classic. Born and raised in Chicago, she recently graduated from college with a degree in History and was preparing to apply for Graduate School before we decided on a different career path for her. Not a natural blonde, it has to be said. But on any normal night she would easily outsell her former employer here. Another fighter, that’s true, but she’s much more of a follower than her MILFy ex-boss. I can guarantee you that won’t take much to make her fall in line.”
The maid’s head fell at the presenter’s words. She tried to squirm away, but both the presenter and the guard held her still. The redhead had to be held still too, when she tried to take a step towards her companion.
Samantha wanted that redheaded MILF. Far more than she thought she would when they brought her out. Every word out of Miss Parsons’ mouth made her even more appealing. The maid was nothing to sneeze at, but Samantha knew she would probably just have her keep being a maid at home. Or maybe keep her in her own place, once she got one. That way Samantha’s mother wouldn’t have a chance to raise a big stink about giving one of her own trained maids away.
It was definitely the ex-curator that had Samantha’s eye. She selected her profile on the tablet and spent the rest of Miss Parsons’ speech going over the basic information on that item. Measurements, age, basic history. Every detail made Samantha want her more. She reminded Samantha of her own stuffy teachers, always so goddamn stuck-up and patronizing. The Victorian costume was a perfect fit for such an obvious priss. And she was a fighter on top of that! Daddy had given Samantha one of her actual former teachers as a Christmas gift not too long ago, but that dumb bitch had gotten boring fast. Samantha could tell that this slut would be a lot more fun.
She hit the button, submitting her first bid. She hit it again a few seconds later, when someone else’s bid made it light back up. Money was no object here, Samantha Greenwood had plenty of it. She could buy anything she wanted tonight. So she hit the button again, and again, and again, until…
“Going once… twice… sold! Congratulations to our lucky recipient! I just know you’ll be having a ton of fun with these two.”
“MMMMMPHPPH! MMMM! MAAAUGGH OOOUU!” screamed Samantha’s new slave, finally exploding back into action as she and the poor assistant she had gotten enslaved alongside her were dragged back off the stage.
Samantha, already growing excited at the thought of all the fun she was going to have with her new toy, leaned in to whisper to the slave she already had with her. “Did you like that redheaded MILF up there, Twinky? You think she was hot? Well she’s mine now, so you’re gonna be getting to know her real soon. And if you’re a very good boy for me, I might even put her mouth on your dinky little cock. Would you like that?”
She could see it so clearly in her mind’s eye. That dressed up figure on her knees and bent over with her head buried in Twinky’s lap, bobbing up and down… Samantha found herself giggling with anticipation.
For his part, the boy toy in question couldn’t turn to look at his owner. She was too close for that. Her mouth was almost touching his ear. But she could feel the motion of his head as he slowly, and very reluctantly, nodded.
Samantha giggled some more and gave that ear a little nibble before she jolted herself back to an upright position. It had taken her ages to get her twink slut to admit how much he liked to play with her other slaves. He would always whine and mope for hours after Samantha let her other toys blow him, too guilty to be grateful for his owner’s generosity. What a wimp!
It was adorable.
She turned his vibrator up, not to the highest setting but close. The slave managed to keep himself from yelping, but the little moan he did let out was delicious.