By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 15 - First Bid

The taste of Nelson's and the guard's cum was still strong in my mouth when time finally came to make my daily phone call to my husband. There was a real feeling of finality about it, because it would be the very last one I would make from this cell. I hadn't seen or heard from him all day, and I had a terrible, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that he might not even take my call. The very thought of this was enough to make me tremble and feel devastated. The phone rang and was answered immediately. I gushed relief that my husband was there on the end of the line and he seemed happy to hear my voice too, although I still sensed an unspoken distance he seemed to be trying to keep from me.

"Is anything that matter?" I eventually asked.

"Besides you being enslaved, do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Please sweetie, let's not argue. Not tonight, of all nights."

"I'm sorry." There was a long pause. "How is the bidding going?"

"It's not. But I did hear some good news today!" I said excitedly.

"Mmm?"

"Nelson got his slaver's license!"

"I know," my husband said.

"So, he told you already?"

"He didn't have to," my husband replied.

"Why not?"

"Because I saw him there a little while ago, -- inspecting -- you."

There was something nasty in the way my husband said "inspecting" but I let it pass. I was way more interested in knowing how he saw anything.

"How did you see him?" I asked.

"You don't know?"

"No. Should I?"

"Ingrid, do you know what I saw at that website you sent me to last night?"

"No. Tell me ..."

"You, Ingrid."

"Oh. You saw the photos of the janitor ... um ... " I balked at saying the word "rape" because I felt a strange sense of guilt that I had been responsible, at least partly. "You saw the janitor tie me up and --"

"No. I mean, yes. There's photos on you in The National Confessor of you in your cell and some redheaded guy tying you up. It's a whole set of photos, and you don't appear to be resisting at all. In fact the guy who did it even wrote the captions to tell the story. He's a slaver and he said you begged him to fuck you --"

"But I didn't!" I cut my husband short.

"It doesn't matter, Ingrid. I understand. You have to do whatever you need to do to get sold tomorrow. Or else, you'll end up ..."

"I know! Don't remind me!"

"Has he made a bid on you yet?" my husband asked.

"No. I told you that already. There's been no bids at all."

My husband went silent for a minute. "I don't know what to say, Ingrid. I'd buy you -- in a flash -- if those dickheads doing the background checks for my slaver license on my would get their friggin' acts together!"

I let my husband fume for a moment and then tried to offer him some kind of hope. "There's always Nelson. He's got his license! He said he was having trouble still raising cash for the auction. Has he spoken with you about it?"

"Nelson." My husband intoned his name flatly.

"Yes, Nelson! He's OK, isn't he?"

"Ingrid, what exactly was going on in your cell this afternoon?"

The guilty twitch that spasmed in my muscles drew attention to the pain of my recently ravaged body -- mostly my ass. I only had to tense my stomach muscles a tiny bit and my asshole shot out sparks of terrible pain.

"You still haven't told me how you saw me!" I said, hoping to get an explanation.

"Ingrid, they have a camera watching you. There's a live feed of your cell going out directly to that page you sent me to last night. I'm looking at you right now, on the computer..."

"It's the mirror, isn't it!" I said, staring straight across the room at it.

"You're looking straight at me now," my husband confirmed my suspicion.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I asked.

"Listen, we don't have much time left. You have to tell me what was going on in your cell with Nelson and that fat guard. What did they do to you? It's important. I have to know if I can trust this Nelson guy."

I quickly considered my words. If I told the absolute truth, my husband might do something to stop Nelson even making a bid for me. It would be the kiss of death for me.

"Nothing. They were just fooling around," I said. It was a complete fabrication I hoped my husband wouldn't see through.

"Fooling around? Ingrid. The quality of the picture I'm looking at is very clear and I can see those two dildos. They're huge! Go and measure them for me."

"With what?" I asked. "I don't have a ruler or anything here."

"Use your hands. Tell me how big each one is compared to the width of your hands. Hurry up."

I placed the phone down on the table, skipped the two steps it took to reach the dildos, and returned to the phone.

"The big one, at the front, is three widths of my hands, plus the head of it. Maybe another hand width. The other is two hands plus the head. Not including the height of the testicles."

"Ingrid, do you have any idea how large that is?"

"Of course I do!" I blushed. "I was the one who had to sit on them! And they vibrate and they move around and they ... they ... and there's a wire in one that zaps my clitoris with electric shocks ... and --"

"And you call this -- just fooling around -- Ingrid? Last night I saw you bouncing up and down on those cocks like you were horseback riding. Any not some friggin' fox hunting horse either. You were riding that think like it was a bucking bronco -- and -- you were sucking the fat guys cock at the same time! Do you know how slutty you looked?"

"Well of -- course -- I do. But it's not my fault..." My voice started to falter.

"I'm sorry Ingrid. I'm just desperately worried about you and I don't know what I'm saying."

A long silence ensued.

"You look hot," my husband said. I instantly recognized the cheeky charm of his compliment.

"Do I?" I asked. I used my best "little innocent girl" voice to ask and toyed with my hair while staring at the mirror on the wall. I wished I could see my husband through it.

"Yes. I bet there's a million people out there right now, looking at you, thinking man, she's hot!"

"You do?" I carried on with my little girl lost in the woods game. It's such a favorite game we've always shared.

"Yes. Our time is nearly up and they're going to cut us off in a sec. Can you do something for me,

Ingrid?"

"Sure, sweetie. Anything. You know I'd do anything for you!"

"I want you to bring your chair over close to the camera, sit in it with your knees apart, and give yourself a wonderful orgasm before you go to bed tonight. I want you to be thinking of me when you do it. I'll be right here watching ..."

A warm shiver and delight washed over me. "Yes. Oh yes!"

"I'll say adieu and let you get started. It's easier than getting cut off in mid-sentence. Oh, and before I forget -- I'll be at the auction tomorrow! Look for me, OK?"

"Yes." Tears welled up in my eyes. "I love you!"

"I love you too," my husband said. His voice was soft and filled with affection.

After I hung up the phone, I positioned my chair in a place where I could see my reflection clearly and then began very slowly and sensuously caressing myself. My hands roamed all over my nude body, concentrating on by breasts and nipples and rubbing up the insides of my thighs. It was just starting to feel breathtakingly wonderful when I heard footsteps descending the stairwell outside my cell.

"You have a late visitor, Ingrid," the guard called before he reached the gate.

When he did unlock it, he held it open to let in another slave trader. I was still feeling in a slightly dreamy mood after the phone call with my husband, but his business-like manner managed to very quickly take the edge off that.

"So, slave 802120, you have 3 minutes to make me cum if you want me to make a bid on you. I might warn you that Hill's Fine Meat is going to bid on you in the morning, and there are no other bids on you at this time. I think you know what the means. If I don't bid, you can expect to be parted out with in 48 hours," the slaver said.

With the words "Hills Fine Meat" still ringing in my ears, plus the apparent promise of my first, real bid, I had no hesitation in dropping straight to my knees and freeing his cock. I went to work straight away -- the pressure of the three minute deadline hanging like a sword of Damocles over my head. I gently grabbed his cock with both hands and crawled closer on my knees to be able to press my mouth deeply. As I pressed my face forward, I pressed up with my tongue and moaned a whimper of delight before slowly pulling my lips back to the tip.

I lingered around the tip of his cock and glanced up at him. I wanted him to see my eyes -- to see right into me. He needed to see the real me deep in there. I could be a good slave -- the best slave, in fact. If only somebody would give me a chance. My tongue continued exploring the underside of the tip of his cock a moment longer, and then I closed my eyes and pushed my face deeply onto his cock again.

This time, when my face pushed my hands out of the way, I placed my hands on the sides of his thighs and caressed them. They felt so strong and solid. My head bobbed in a slowly accelerating rhythm and I let my hands wander around to his ass. I didn't want to be too obvious, but now each time I bobbed me head forward, I pushed his butt forward a tiny bit with my hands to simulate a fucking motion. As the tempo increased, so too did the volume of my moaned delight. I wanted him to head how delicious I thought his cock tasted and how eager I was to have him cum in my mouth. Saliva formed in my mouth around his cock, and my throat muscles fell into a regular rhythm to suck hard and then swallow.

I sensed my time was running out and still no sign of any cum in my mouth. The frustration began to sound as whimpering. I wriggled a bit more on my knees until I could press my breasts against the hairy fronts of his thighs. I rubbed my breasts around and relished the sensations of his thighs against my nipples. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the sybian sitting there -- the two large rubber cocks standing obscenely up from its seat.

There was no discreet way I could think of to move the slaver in the direction of the sybian, but if he could see my on it while I sucked his cock, I felt sure he'd cum quickly like Nelson and the guard had done just a few short hours earlier.

I pulled my head back again until just the beautiful, hard knob of his cock was still in my mouth and looked up in the direction of his face. I started whimpering like a puppy, making short, high-pitched little whimpers up at him and then glancing quickly in the direction of the sybian. When he didn't appear to notice, I bob my head very quickly a few times, and then repeat the puppy dog noises until I thought I finally had his attention. I wasn't sure, but I was ever-hopeful.