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
Ancient Egypt was the theme for the next set of slaves. That was cool, Samantha was a fan of Egyptian history. Enough that she got annoyed at the presenter for saying the slaves for sale were coming from the “Court of Cleopatra.”
“Ugh. It’s always Cleopatra when people do Egyptian stuff. There were like three thousand years before she was in charge, and she lost! I mean sure, she’s interesting. I like her, but there are so many other even more interesting Egyptian queens. Why is it never Hatshepsut? Not only is she cooler, she would fit the aesthetic they’re putting up there a lot better. I guarantee you that the temple on the screen was built way before Ptolemy took over.”
Samantha’s twink was really trying to listen to her, leaning his head in closer to her knee so he could hear better. Cute.
The Egyptian lot came with a grand total of four slaves for sale, the most of any lot so far. One of them was actually a native Egyptian, a willowy woman with dusky tanned skin that shone beautifully under the stage lights. The minions even brought out a little divan for her to sit on so the other three slaves–all Archaeologists from the same program Samantha’s newly purchased pair had stupidly tried to stop–could serve her. There were two Americans who held classic palm tree fans to keep the Egyptian queen cool while the fourth item, a deliciously curvy natural blonde Canadian, got to feed her grapes.
The Americans were both dark haired. One had lovely black curls, the other one wavy brown locks. The one with black hair was the bustiest of the foursome, and pale. The brown-haired one’s tan was almost as deep as the native Egyptian’s skin.
All of them were chained and shackled at the wrists and ankles. Even the one getting fanned and fed. It was hard to tell if they were gagged or not, they all had on white cloth veils that hid the entire lower half of their faces. Their eyes were undisguised, but you had to look at the tablet to see what was beneath that cloth. They were all so well behaved that they could easily be ungagged like the Sari-wearing twins from earlier were.
“In addition to their skills at fanning and feeding their betters, all four items here are fully trained in both domestic and sexual skills. Yes, even our second ‘queen’ of the night here is just as well-behaved as her servants.”
More laughter. Samantha thought she saw the grape-holder’s eyes glistening with tears and was tempted to start bidding again, but ultimately decided against it. Two slaves for one night was already a good number. Going all the way up to six would only invite a lecture from her mother, and Samantha did not need to put up with that. So she kept her finger off the tablet and let this part of the auction play out.
It was an enjoyable show, to be honest. About halfway through her speech Miss Parsons snapped her fingers and the queen, who until that moment had looked far too regal and dignified for a slave, crawled off the divan to kiss the toes of her fellow slaves for sale to demonstrate that she truly did know her place. Once she was done with that she went on to each of the guards in turn, and then to Miss Parsons herself. The bidding came to a climax just as the little bitch was licking at the presenter’s patent leather pumps, and then exploded when she rolled onto her back to suck on the heels of those shoes, one after the other.
There was applause when the final call of “SOLD!” rang out for the Egyptian themed foursome. A split second before she joined in, Samantha took the chance to blast her slave’s vibrator to its max setting along with a shock. His shocked cry was the loudest of the night, but failed to be heard over the sound of the audience clapping. Samantha was biting her lip as she sat down and lowered the intensity, seconds before the rest of the audience did.
She was going to make her boy toy scream once the auction was over and they went back to the room.
The fifth lot was triplets.
“Not identical, I’m afraid. But each of these Swedish sisters is enough of a prize to make up for any disappointment you may feel in that regard.”
Miss Parsons wasn’t lying about that. All three of the triplets were solid pieces of merchandise. Two blondes and the second redhead of the night, all dressed up in fur-lined outfits and their faces painted up to look like Viking Shield-maidens. The fierceness of the makeup job was enhanced massively by the big fat leather bit gags filling up all their mouths. The drool dripping down their chins did a wonderful job of making them look totally feral and completely under control at the same time.
The Viking Age was another historical topic Samantha didn’t have a ton of knowledge of, but that was mostly because she hadn’t found the time to dig into it. She had always loved the image of buying some naked, dirty piglet of a slave from a crew of Viking raiders. And she loved the torchlit Hall that served as the auction stage’s new backdrop. It looked downright cozy. It was easy for Samantha to imagine pulling a squealing thrall down onto a bed of furs and doing whatever she wanted with them.
The triplet sisters were all bound with rope, like the Victorian dressed slaves Samantha bought had been. Their wrists were tied behind their backs, and lengths of rope connected each set of wrists to the others in a rope coffle. Samantha saw that one of them, the blonde in the middle, kept trying to cringe away while both of her sisters tried to cover her. At least until they were tugged apart by the ever-present shadowy security guys.
All three sisters had the muscles to pull off their costumes. It was a whole family of athletic, muscular women. Not all the same, as the presenter said. One of the blondes was half a foot shorter than either of her sisters and the redhead was easily the skinniest of the three. But every triplet was fit as hell. Apparently they all did sports. Skiing, volleyball, hockey, swimming, and others. A well-to-do family of fitness freaks was losing twenty-year old triplets to satisfy the appetites of people with the power to snatch them up, and even if Samantha again had no intentions of buying them (she wasn’t big on muscles) she was going to continue enjoying the view.
And she was going to keep playing with the slave she had with her too. As bidding for the triplets went on and on–maybe it was just because Samantha wasn’t tempted to participate this time, but it really seemed like they were taking the longest–the youngest member of the Greenwood family delighted in peppering intense, high power shocks along with the continued buzz of his vibrator. He would yelp every now and again, and Samantha would hit or pinch him in quick punishment.
The same guy from before shot Samantha another look, and this time she could see that he was more interested than annoyed. He was kind of cute too, but also clearly getting a hand-job from the slave in the full body latex suit and hood by his side, so Samantha could do without. That was one thing she agreed with her mother about. You had to know what could be done out in the open and what should stay behind closed doors. Mess with your property if you wanted, make them squeal a bit, but it wasn’t that hard to wait for some privacy before you got your rocks off.
A real glare came from some woman in a cream-yellow dress. That one was obviously annoyed at the noises Samantha’s twink was making. Too bad for her.
The next backdrop was on fire. Not literally, but Samantha saw the street of a Roman style city burning down beneath a smoke filled sky while ominous music played in the background. Marble statues and columns were collapsing in the distance.
“The real Romans painted all their stuff. Did you know that?” She shook her boy toy’s head a bit and drew him in close. “They didn’t leave it all bare white, they had bright colors. The Greeks did too. I get why people think the white marble looks good, but I wish people would paint Roman stuff more too. Get some more variety in there.”
The next lot was another pair instead of a group of three or four. Goths who were guilty of bringing “the downfall of civilization,” according to the presenter. Samantha rolled her eyes and started a whispered rant about how the Eastern Roman Empire lasted another thousand years after Rome was sacked, and how Rome didn’t really fall because they just rebuilt it, and how the Western Empire had been a crumbling wreck anyway.
At least those are the things Samantha would have said if she hadn’t fallen silent at the approach of the newest lots. Goths, as promised. But instead of trying to make them look authentically two thousand years old the auctioneers had them dressed as modern day goths. Both had dyed black hair that had been applied long enough for roots to start showing. Solid black lipstick and eye shadow decorated their faces. One of them, the one that was a tiny bit chubby in comparison to her petite gal pal, was another natural redhead. There were a good number of those tonight. She wore a strapless black dress with a tight corset and thigh high black boots.
The other was dressed in a full body stocking with a leather bra on underneath, a pleated leather miniskirt, and towering platform heels. Her natural hair seemed dirty blonde or true brown, but it was hard to tell in the lighting. This slave’s petite, compact frame also revealed some solid muscle definition. Apparently she liked to swim and run.
The pair were also the first true lovers of the night. Not in the sense that they had been trained to put on a show with each other (although they did do that, putting their hands all over each other on Miss Parson’s command), they were actually girlfriends before their capture. The presenter made a big deal of just how good these lesbians would be at pleasing any woman who wanted to try out their tongues.
Just like their outfits, this lot’s bondage was also more modern than most of the others. Massive, bright red ball gags were stuck firmly inside the black rings that were their mouths. Leather armbinders that visibly kept their elbows touching, or so close to it that it didn’t matter. And thick collars with chains for leashes.
“I hope you can all forgive us for deviating from our theme a bit with these two,” the presenter was smiling. We couldn’t resist placing these lesbian goths among images of the sack of Rome. All the more fitting as they were caught vandalizing a home belonging to one of our most prominent sponsors. So they’re not only goths, they’re vandals too. Imagine that. Just think of how much fun it will be to punish these little criminals as their ilk deserve.”
Samantha chuckled at the thought. She would put in a bid or two, but she didn’t expect to win anything. That was fine. She would only really want them if they were cheap.
“Of all the homes they could have chosen that night, they picked that one. Can you believe that? If the sponsor in question had any taste at all for women, these violent sluts would be in his dungeon even now. But as things stand, his loss is your gain.”
The items did not appreciate the reminder of their capture. One of them, the redhead, was glaring hard at the audience. She held still and made no attempt to fight back or escape, but she also made her fury as obvious as she could. This one was a fighter. Not a mindlessly stubborn one, like Samantha’s new MILF bitch, but someone who would act with caution. The kind that Samantha’s mother Lydia would love to challenge herself to cow into submission. Miss Parsons went into details about her attitude and behavior that confirmed that impression.
The more petite item in the body stocking stared at the ceiling instead. Interesting. She wasn’t staring off into space like some slaves did when they were auctioned off. Her eyes were too alert for that, darting this way and that. Nor was she studiously avoiding the bidders as much as she simply seemed more interested in the auditorium than she was in who was actually in the auditorium. Weird. But she was docile enough. That was the important part.
Samantha did bid on the Goth lovers, but gave up as fast as she expected to. She was curious, not truly interested. Besides, there was one lot left. The main event. No sense in putting too much effort into this one when the next would probably be even better.
The backdrop changed for the final time into a palace of cushions and comforts. This, combined with the overly Middle-Eastern music made it very clear what period of history the final set of items was portraying. Samantha smiled fondly. The Arabian Harem wasn’t really a thing, but it was a classic fantasy for a reason and she liked it too much to want to make a stink over it.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present to you our final lot of the night. We have for you here another family acquired and trained for your personal pleasure. Twins–identical this time–along with their exquisite mother!”
A murmur of clear interest roiled up from the audience as three harem girls were brought out in crimson, black, and gold-accented silks and transparent veils. Nothing was truly hidden, unlike with the Egyptian veils earlier. They weren’t nude, the thongs and bras they wore stopped that, and the cloth OTM gags that so many other lots had worn today covered their eyes, but everything else was visible. Their wrists were all chained behind their backs, with matching shackles allowing just enough length of chain to let them take short steps.
It was honestly hard to tell at a glance which one was the mother and which ones were the twins. It took a closer look to figure out that the mother was a bit more long in the face than her daughters. Her nose was a little smaller too, and she was a couple of inches shorter than them. The presenter said that Mommy was thirty-seven years old and her girls eighteen. Apparently they’d been snatched on their birthday.
Samantha wanted them.
All of them.
She barely listened as the presenter went down the information, background, and standout skills of the family of sex slaves. Nor when an apology was given for the twins’ not being quite ready to put on a show for the audience like the Mughal sisters or the Egyptian queen had been. They hadn’t been trained for nearly as long as those twins had been.
Samantha would have them putting on shows for her in no time, if they knew what was good for them. She wanted all three of them in her bed, mewling and crying out like the sexy toys they now were. All the young woman could think about was putting herself between the twins while their mommy saw to her pleasure between her legs, or watching two of them spit roast the third, or how jealous Daddy was going to be when he saw what Samantha had bought.
The mother kept trying to draw attention away from her daughters. Not in entirely obvious ways, but she kept sticking out her chest, trying to catch the spotlight with the jewels encrusted into her bra. She struck a few poses, chained up as she was. Swayed her hips. Turned around and stuck out her rear end. Anything to draw eyes away from her frozen girls.
It didn’t work very well. The MILF was as exquisite as Miss Parsons said she was, but the twins were the real jewels on display on this lot. And the way they both shivered in place… Samantha bit her lip and resisted the urge to put a hand under her dress.
When it was finally time to bid, Samantha was definitely the first one to enter one in. Probably the third too, she hammered at that button every single time it lit up and glared at anyone who looked at her.
And then, for no apparent reason, the button stopped lighting up.
Samantha blinked. She pressed down on the tablet screen with more force than should have been necessary. Nothing. Cursing, she ripped off one of her gloves and touched the screen with her bare skin. Still nothing.
“What the fuck?” Samantha growled. Other buttons worked fine. She could call up Mommy’s specific profile and then switch it to one of her daughters. But she couldn’t bid! Just what the hell was going on?
The auction was still going on. Samantha could see other guests huddled over their own tablets, and a small number that were making no move to bid on this lot. Samantha snarled, drawing more looks than before. She didn’t care. Something was not only wrong, it was actively screwing her over.
Samantha was debating whether she should look for some button to demand tech support or if she should just stand up and demand someone help her with her tablet when an usher appeared at her table. It was a man, thin, wearing a waiter’s tux and blank white domino mask.
“Excuse me, Ma’am. Is there a problem?”
Samantha glared. Not so much at him, she was glaring in general. Too angry for any other expression.
“Something is wrong with my tablet. I can’t bid.”
The usher didn’t look at the tablet. Didn’t check it over at all. Instead his face twitched, like he was trying to suppress a grimace, as he kept his gaze locked with Samantha’s own.
“I’m… terribly sorry, Ma’am. But there’s nothing wrong with your device.”
“Then why,” she spoke in the split second before he could continue, “aren’t my fucking bids going through? Huh? Can you explain that to me, dipshit?”
He took a deep breath. “You’ve reached your spending limit.”
Samantha blinked.
Her entire body went perfectly still.
“Excuse me?”
“Some participants, when their payment methods are verified, are given a spending limit by… whoever happens to be in control of the accounts being connected to. You purchased one of the earlier lots, correct? The Victorian lady and maid? The money you spent on that bid, combined with the high numbers the current bids have reached your limit and you are, unfortunately, unable to place any further bids.”
What. The. FUCK?!
Samantha stood. Fuming. Furious. A spending limit? Her parents had set a SPENDING LIMIT!?
She shoved the usher aside and stormed out of the auditorium. It was all she could do to avoid shrieking at the bastard and all the other assholes in the place who were still bidding on HER harem slaves. That bitch in the cream-yellow dress from earlier smirked at her. Fucker!
Samantha didn’t check to see if the slave she brought with her was following her. Her mind was too focused on the injustice of it all. This had her mother’s stink all over it. Twinky didn’t even enter Samantha’s thoughts until she was back to her own room, when she turned to slam the door shut and found him staring at the ground, terrified to the point of shaking.
He wasn’t wrong to be afraid. That thought popped into the furious young woman’s head as she gripped his shoulder and wrenched him inside the room and flung him onto the floor. Samantha couldn't remember the last time she had been so angry. And since it would be several hours before her new slaves would arrive at the room, he would have to be her stress ball until she had someone else to target. No doubt the slaves she had been ALLOWED to buy would be delivered before too long.
Samantha gave her twink a swift kick to the side, wondering in the back of her mind if she should start with a cane or electricity, as she stomped past him to slam herself down on the bed and pull out her phone.
Before anything else, she had a call to make…