WARNING!  This file contains sexually explicit material. If you are underage,
or do not wish to read, you have been warned. This story has strong racial
themes, so if that offends you, don't read it.

This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please don't remove the author
information or make any changes to this story.

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A young African woman who speaks no English is auctioned off to the highest
bidder.

MF, rape, bond, racial

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                    The Auction
                    by InnerStrength


"I said stand up straight, nigger."

She wears a plain brown sleeveless burlap dress. It almost looks like a potato
sack with holes cut out for the arms and head. She stands tall and dark, with
full hips and chest, and a rounded face with a flat nose. Her curly black hair
has been cut short, so the shape of her head stands out.

She speaks no English.

The dress scratches and chafes, so she tries not to move.

"I said stand up straight, nigger."

He puts one hand on her back, and another just below her throat and pushes,
straightening her up. As soon as he touches her, she glares in his direction,
the whites of her eyes shining against the blackness of her face.

He is white and middle aged, with a protruding belly and graying hair. years
of tobacco use have stained his teeth a sickly yellow. He wears canvas pants
and a linen shirt. The shirt has large wet stains under the arms. The midday
sun bakes them both, and sweat beads on his forehead.

"Don't go eyin' me like that."

He swings his hand and hits her across the face with the back of it. She does
nothing to defend herself. Her hands are tied behind her back with a hemp
rope. Iron shackles bind her feet together.

"If I have to bloody you up so you don't sell, I might just send you to one of
the 'special' customers."

She says nothing.

He reaches a hand out and fondles her breast. Then she backs away.

"You're a pretty one, you are. Shame to sell you."

"What's taking so long, Amos? Get her up here!"

"I'm coming. I'm coming."

He grabs the rope hanging behind her from her wrists and starts walking to a
large wooden stage. There are well dressed men on all sides, and a wooden
staircase leading up to it. She walks with him, but the rope is tugging at
her, forcing her into a sideways gate.

An auctioneer stands alone in the middle of the stage, until Amos walks up
dragging his wares.

"Look at the fine doe we have here. A nice strong back to work the fields, but
wouldn't you rather keep her in the house to make mulatto babies?"

There are some chuckles from the crowd.

"Let's start the bidding at $200. Do I have $200?"

"$200"

"$225"

"$250"

The bidding kept going up until only two men were left.

"$375"

"What about it, Bill? Is she worth $400?"

"I don't know. She has to be a hell of cook for that."

"Come check her out."

Bill works his way through the crowd over to the stair case, and climbs up
it. He walks over to the woman and stares down at her. She can smell whiskey
on his breath as he appraises her.

"Does she bite?"

"Not if you're careful."

The trader still holds her rope. With his other hand, he pulls a pistol out of
his holster, and holds it by the barrel. This forces her eyes open as she
tries to back away from the butt of the pistol.

"You should be OK now."

Bill reaches up to her mouth and puts his fingers in, pulling her lips
apart. Her bright white teeth shine in her face the same way her eyes do, but
her pink gums silhouette them.

"She's got 'em all."

He grabs her upper arm and squeezes it. He sniffs at her breath. He slaps at
her, stopping just short of her face to measure her reflexes. Then he shoves
on her shoulders, pushing her back.

She takes one step to steady herself, but never bends, and never stops looking
at the man.

"Alright, $390."

"I'm not taking $390. I'm taking $400."

"$400 then."

"What about, Sam? Can you beat $400? I'll take $415."

"$415's a lot. She'd damn well do more than cook. What's she look like under
that dress?"

"Come on up and find out."

Sam also works his way through the crowd and climbs the stairs. Now there are
four men with her: the trader, the auctioneer, and the two bidders.

He walks up top her and looks into her eyes as she stares back defiantly.

"This one'll be fun to break. Won't need a saddle, though."

More laughs from the crowd.

"Hey, Sam. Show us her tits!"

He reaches out to the straps and pulls them over her shoulder. The rough
burlap scrapes against her nipples as it exposes her large, black breasts. He
keeps pulling downward, but the rope holding her arms together stops him from
removing the dress entirely.

Some whistles come from the crowd. Some of the men holler. Sam grabs a brown
nipple and pinches. She spits in his face. He squeezes harder, and pulls the
nipple away from her body, forcing her to take a step towards him. She sees
the erection in his pants.

"Hey, no playin' 'til you buy her."

"Whadd'ya say, Sam? $415?"

"Ok." He spits out "$415" without taking his eyes away from her face.

"Are you gonna let him steal her for $415, Bill? How about $430?"

"$430 is too much. I can get two for that price."

"$425 then?"

"$420"

"I'll take it. Sam, can you beat $420? How about $425."

"No, I'm out. Bill, if you want to make some of that back, I wouldn't mind
borrowing her some."

"We'll see."

He pulls her dress up over her shoulders, being careful not to rub the
sensitive nipples. The three men walk off the stage, but this time, it is Bill
holding the rope. She walks slightly ahead, eager to get off stage.

Bill and the trader walk back to Bill's wagon.

"Get in back."

"She doesn't talk yet. Just grunts like an animal."

Bill points to the back of the wagon and she understands. She climbs up into
the hay and sits.

"It was $420, right?"

"Yup."

He reaches into his purse, and pulls out the bills, then hands them to the
trader.

"Pleasure doin' business with you."

He says nothing, but tips his hat.

"Here are the keys to the shackles. You'd best keep 'em on a few weeks."

"I'll do that, but my farm is pretty remote. There isn't anywhere for her to
go."

One horse is hitched to the front of the wagon, and she is tied to a
post. Bill unties her, grabs the reins, and climbs onto the wagon. With a
shake of the reins and a clicking noise, he tells the horse to start pulling
the wagon home.

"It's time to go home, honey. You need a name. What should we call you?"

The horse pulls away from the stage at a walk, and follows the dirt road away
from the river bank.

"How about Beatrice? I've always like Bea, a good Christian name now that
you're a good Christian woman."

He looks back as he says this, and she still sits quietly in the hay.

"You aren't much of a talker, are you?"

So the minutes pass in silence as they amble out of the town. They pass some
planted fields on the outskirts, but keep moving. After about twenty minutes,
they enter the woods. The trees are heavy enough to block much of the the sun,
but the road cuts a path through the trees that lets some more light in.

As they travel through the trees, they can hear birds chattering. Sometimes
the wind picks up, and blows through the trees, making a sound not unlike a
waterfall. All in all, it is a pleasant day to be out.

Deep into the woods, the wagon lurches, and the horse snorts in complaint. She
has jumped out and is trying to move away from the wagon.

"Hey there! Come back."

He stops the horse in the road, and leaves the wagon. She is shuffling away as
fast as she can, but the leg shackles stop her from running too
quickly. Still, it takes him some time to settle the horse, and she makes it
into the trees. Just as she starts to drop out of view, he runs after her.

But she can't move fast enough in the shackles, and trips over a root,
sprawling onto her face, since her hands can't break her fall.

"You shouldn't go running away."

He walks up to where she has fallen. She rolls onto her back. The burlap dress
isn't very long. With her legs shifting to move her around, the dress has
moved upward to expose her pussy. It has thick black hair, but he can still
see her lips, a darker color than her skin.

"You shouldn't run away. I need a woman around the place."

He reaches her and stares downward and her exposed lips. He smiles.

She pushes with her feet and scrambles backward.

"I told you not to run away."

He kicks her in the side and she doubles over.

"But I guess this is as good a place to stop as any."

He grabs her rope and pulls her arms upward and away from her bent body. He
forces her up to her knees, with he arms almost straight up behind her. With
the other hand, he reaches down and jams one finger into her cunt. She tries
to pull away, but any movement hurts her outstretched arms.

"There. Isn't that better?"

He pulls his finger out, and holds it up to his nose, sniffing deeply. Then he
puts it in his mouth and sucks.

"Let's get back to the wagon and finish this."

He pulls up hard, but with no hands and her feet shackled, she can't stand. He
uses both hands and lifts her body by the arms. She can feel his erection on
her side as he lifts, but she cares only about the pain in her shoulders. As
soon as he has her high enough, she steps forward and puts her weight on her
own feet. She spits at him.

"Don't have very many tricks, do you?"

He walks towards the wagon, dragging her backward by the rope. Once, she
manages to set her feet and pull, but he yanks savagely backward and keeps
moving out of the woods.

"You didn't think I hired you to cook, did you, nigger?"

At the wagon, he takes her dress and pulls it down roughly over her shoulders,
again exposing her dark tits. Her white eyes open wide as she sees her fate
and tries to pull away. He reaches for her hair, but it is too short to grab,
so he yanks back hard on the rope. He starts mauling her tits with one
hand. He grabs a breast, pushing the nipple out obscenely. Then he grabs the
nipple and pulls. She gasps in pain.

He spins her around so she is facing the wagon and pushes her down into
it. She can feel the itchy straw on her bare chest, and his hand pushing her
down at the shoulder blades. Her face is twisted sideways, and she can smell
the damp straw poking at her nose and the sweat of a man.

Then she feels his hands on her ass. She swings her arms backward, but can't
hit anything. His face is out of reach. He rubs one cheek, then smacks her
pussy.

"You like it rough, don't you. You all like it rough."

Then he jams his hand into her upper back so hard it forces her breath out,
and she feels his dick resting on her ass.

"Ready for it, sweetie? Ready to make some brown babies?"

Her pussy lips are swollen and dark. He spread them apart, showing a pink
inside that shines brightly against the skin. In one thrust, he pushes into
her. She kicks out, but he is between so legs and she can't kick with any
strength before the shackles stop her. As he pushes in, he forces her body
forward against the straw.

When he gets all the way in, he can feel her strong, round ass press into his
hips. She tries to squeeze to keep him out, but it only feels better. Her
muscles press firm and strong into him, not soft and womanly. The rope on her
wrists stands out against her dark back as it falls from her wrists to the
wagon.

When he pulls out, he can see her lips pulling back with him, like they are
trying to hold onto him. He pulls out the smell of her sex with it. As much as
she resisted, she is still wet and ready. He pushes back in and feels his
balls slap against her.

As he starts pumping in and out, his hands wander. Instead of pressing her
back, his hand presses into the side of her face, forcing her head down. With
his other hand, he slaps her ass like you would slap a horse, spurring it
on. She feels good in his hands.

Now he isn't pumping; he is pounding, and with each thrust he pushes her head
forward harder, so it is bobbing up and down in the straw, matching rhythm
with his hips. His face is remote, looking into the woods, not at her.

Some men don't like bestiality, but she is so close to human that he can't see
the harm. Why should a man who can afford a slave go hungry?

Finally, he his mind starts to empty. He focuses on the wetness of her pussy,
and the darkness of her skin, and starts to come. He pushes in one last time,
sliding her forward a few more inches, and pumps his seed into her.

She will breed many more to work his farm. The men will work the fields, and
the women will work the farmer. Some he can sell. He can breed the best
together.

She is a good start.

Now he can begin his life. Now he can build his wealth.

Now he is a gentleman.

