The Slave Auction

by guardian46w, 2019-06-22 02:46:13

Unknown Author

Illustration by Bishop

Originally published in Bound To Please Vol. 1 No. 6

Scanned by EKrayon and Transcribed by guardian46w

Story Codes: M/f, bdsm, reluct, cons, naked, cuffs, public, auction, X

My husband, Bob, and I had been practicing bondage for a long time, always with me on the receiving end, since I’m basically quite submissive and Bob is very dominant and masculine. Over the years, I’d learned that I always had a better climax if I could be bound in helpless and mildly painful — and most especially, embarrassing — positions, and Bob had the same result when he tied me up.

We had developed a number of rituals that we both enjoyed, but they had always concerned only the two of us, and I never expected to have any involvement with anyone but my husband. He, however, had been corresponding with quite a few people through a magazine, without my knowledge, and he had some plans that I never could have dreamed of.

I have loved to play little bondage games with my husband, but I never knew what it was about till the night I was placed on auction.

I discovered it all one night, when he told me that we were going to a party given by someone from his office. There was nothing unusual about that; our social life is quite active, and we have many friends. I dressed for a party and we went.

My first hint that something was going on was that I didn't know anyone at the party. And the decorations were very bizarre: huge sheets of silk and satin billowed from the ceiling and walls, and there was a raised platform in the center of the room. I assumed that it was a stage, and just stayed obediently near my husband.

It all changed, though, when a very big, athletic man stepped onto the stage. Bob held my hands tightly behind me as the man started to speak.

"We have several newcomers here tonight," he said, "but hopefully they'll be regulars from now on. As you know, tonight's entertainment will be our big slave auction."

I looked at Bob nervously. He just smiled. "All the submissives," the man said, "are to go into the next room, where you will be given suitable costumes."

I went meekly, along with about half the people there. I was slightly surprised to see that some of them, perhaps a third of them, were men. Most of the people, men and women alike, were quite good-looking and well-dressed, but after we got into that other room, none of us were dressed at all. We were ordered to strip by two masterful, leather clad women, who hung our clothes neatly on a coat rack and ordered us to stand naked along the wall.

When all of us had been stripped, we were assigned costumes — gossamer harem gowns of see-through silk, in a wide range of bright colors, and gold sandals with impossibly high heels. I felt almost as humiliated in this costume as I had felt naked under the two mistresses' coldly smiling eyes. My humiliation, though, wasn't the worst. As I glanced around the room, I saw that all the girls were dressed as I was in a flowing silk gown and stiletto heels — but so were all the men. I suppose that being dressed in the embarrassing female costume was the price they had to pay for being submissive.

While we were being dressed, the dominant group in the big room was being told the rules of the game. For ten dollars, which went into the group's party fund, to provide such things as the costumes we were wearing, all the dominants received a hundred dollars in phony money, with which they could bid for any slave that they wanted. The only rule was that no one could buy their own spouse, and no one could have more than one slave.

Back in the small room, I discovered to my horror that part of the slave's costume consisted of a pair of handcuffs, which locked my hands securely behind my back. When we were all bound this way, our feet were tied together with short lengths of rope, so that we could walk only by taking tiny steps. Then we were instructed that we were not allowed to close our mouths or speak. We had to hold our lips slightly open, and we were told that we would get a severe beating if we tried to talk. Then we were led into the main room for the auction.

We were greeted by a barrage of laughter from the dominant men and women, especially when they saw the passive men in their harem garb, with their hard-ons straining at the silk. I was frightened, but I was also very excited, and if I'd been a man, I'd have had just as stiff a cock.

One by one, we were sold. The auctioneer poked and prodded us mercilessly, boasting of our virtues, trying to get people to bid more money.

I waited fearfully for my turn. I watched in helpless agony as my husband bought a very pretty young blonde with a mouthwatering body. I didn't know at that time that they could not bid on their own wives and husbands, and I felt terribly insecure. I actually started to cry a little, and by the time it was my turn to be sold, I was crying quite a lot.

I was dragged onto the stage and the auctioneer began showing me off. He cupped my breasts in his hands and shouted, "Look at these tits, ladies and gentlemen." I have always been proud of my very firm breasts, but this man managed to make me feel very inferior as he said, "Yes, they're not much to look at, but think of how much fun it will be to play with these big, flabby basketballs." He laughed. "Big tits, probably a nice roomy pussy —" He ran his hand between my legs, making me moan excitedly. "It's dripping already, ladies and gentlemen. And look at this ass she's got! There's enough there for two or three people to spank! Come on, let's hear a bid —"

I was crying helplessly by the time I was bought by a fairly attractive man in his late thirties. He teased me, belittled me, spanked me viciously, made me suck his cock, finally fucked me with me on top so he could spank me while I bounced up and down on top of him.

I tried occasionally to glance across the room, through the orgy-like mass of masters and slaves, to see what my husband was doing, and I found that his slave was being forced to endure much the same sort of things I was suffering. Bob, though, is very virile, especially when his partner is bound, and he can come over and over again in a very short time. So, his poor slave's face was dripping with creamy sperm mixed with her tears, and Bob was pumping his cock in and out of her ass, ready to fill that opening with another load. I was glad that my master wasn't that virile.

The orgy lasted most of the evening, and when our masters had finished with us, we were taken back to the other room, untied, and allowed to dress in our own clothes. We waited there for our mates to pick us up, and then we went home.

As Bob and I arrived home, I told him that I wished he hadn't surprised me like that.

He thought that I hadn't enjoyed the party, and said that we wouldn't go to any more if I didn't want to.

"No," I said, "you don't understand. I wish you'd told me in advance because it would have kept me horny for a week, just thinking about going. I promise you, darling, we're never going to miss one of those parties."

And we haven't missed one yet.