By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 18 - Sold!

By the time we all arrived at our destination, the strong stench of urine and stale perfume in the back of the truck had made me nauseous. Our trolleys had all packed tightly into the shipping container on the back of the truck, but our suspended bodies on them bumped side to side throughout the long, bumpy journey and my arms felt like they were ready to pop from their sockets. My trolley was somewhere in the middle so it took some time after we'd stopped before the guards unpacking the truck reached me. They wheeled me a short distance and then hitched my trolley to the others ahead of me using a chain. One more trolley was added after me and together, our long caravan of trolleys was dragged from the container and out onto a gangway that led in through the receiving dock area of a huge aircraft hanger-sized building.

We were wheeled into the wings area adjacent to a large stage. Inside the cavernous space, I could hear by the noise the room was packed with people. Announcements were made telling people to take their seats while some business suited men wearing official badges walked up and down the line of trolleys inspecting us. A solemn hush had descended on all the slaves -- a quietness that was in stark contrast to the sounds of laughing and noisy chatter coming from the floor of the market place. Once the auction commenced, the crowd fell relatively silent and I expected there to be frenzied calls of bids for each "lot", but mostly it was just the amplified calls of the auctioneer.

I couldn't see what was going on from where I was, but it didn't sound like there was much bidding activity going on. From the sounds of it, all of the slaves being presented for sale had already had bonded bids made in advance that were not challenged by bids from the slavers. A blonde girl suspended on the trolley ahead of my was released and I watched as a couple of market workers made her stand and put her hands behind her back to have her wrists cuffs locked together. She appeared to be confident -- or maybe defiant? It was difficult to tell from the angle I viewed her from. She looked to be an attractive girl with a statuesque figure and an ample bust. But there was something hard about her face behind her pouting expression. She had the look of somebody who had experienced much more of life than her young years could account for. I caught her looking at me. We just sort of stared at each other for a moment and then she was gone.

The market workers then moved to me and unhitched me from the pole that suspended me. I stood unsteadily as my hands were drawn behind my back and the leather wrist cuffs resecured in place. From the wings, I watched the tall blonde parade boldly to the center of the stage and take up a brazen pose. Her presence brought a noticeable reaction from the crowd and I expected to hear at least some bids for her, but nothing happened. The auctioneer, who I could now see standing at a lectern on the far side of the stage, called for bids and waited a moment or two before passing her in to her highest pre-bid offer, which was by some company called Deep Kiss Traders.

I was then ordered to walk out on stage. The instruction was to go as far as a small square box marked out on the floor of the stage with black duck tape and stand there until the bidding for me was complete.

The only other time ever in my life that I had been on stage was when I was a little girl. I still vividly remembered how much I had wanted to play the lead role of the princess and the crushing disappointment when it was given to Holly Morrison instead. To add insult to injury, I had to play the role of the ugly sister that nobody liked. It was so humiliating, just like it was now, all these years later. I tried to keep my dignity as I walked out to take my place center stage.

"Lot thirty-seven -- one pre-bid," the auctioneer announced.

I drew a deep breath in through my nostrils, gently bit my lower lip and closed my eyes.

"I see one active bid of plus 25, any more active bids?"

It took a moment to realize somebody had made higher offer for me. I opened my eyes and felt a slight ray of hope shine down on me. There was a sea of faces below me and I tried to find my husband's in it.

"I see a second bid of plus 35, any more?"

My pulse rate quickened. If it was my husband who made the first bid, he was now being challenged. I clenched my hands into defensive fists behind my back.

"I see a 3rd bid of plus 40, do I see plus 45?"

It was impossible to tell who was bidding for me. I kept looking, trying to see where my husband was.

"I see plus 45, do I see plus 50?"

When I first noticed Nelson's face in the crowd, I became really excited and expected to see my husband with him. But instead, he appeared to be sitting with a number of people I recognized from my time in the slave tank. Other slavers who had variously fucked and humiliated me, including the ginger-haired slaver who pretended to be the janitor that was pictured raping me in the National Confessor magazine story. The amount being bid continued to rise quickly. It stopped at a bid of plus 65.

"Plus 65 once ..."

I kept my eyes fixed on Nelson. A man with him appeared to be saying something.

"Twice ..."

Nelson shrugged his shoulders and appeared to have resigned from the bidding war. I desperately want to call out to him -- to beg him not to stop now. "Please Nelson!" a voice screamed out loud in my head. "Please!"

"Fair warning," the auctioneer said. He banged his gavel. "Sold. To Spellbook Slaves and Games."

My heart sank to my feet. I felt empty inside. Numb.