Slaver Training-The Auction

(Part 2 from 7)

Everything had been upside down as they moved down a long hallway, all of the doors closed, some having bars on tiny windows. She’d wondered if this was some kind of jail or prison. They hadn’t looked like police, and police didn’t drug people. For the next two days, the two men had repeatedly raped them. First, they were fucked in their pussies. When the men grew tired of that and could no longer get the girls to fight the rape, they were turned over, legs spread wide and a hard cock ridden up their assholes. That brought life back to them, their screams bringing so much pleasure to the men. Especially Lyn, as she had been an anal virgin, her screams were the loudest. When the men were no longer hard, the girls’ mouths were used to bring them back to hardness. Then, it would be another rape. Lyn brought herself back to her equally horrifying present. 

The stage was now ready for the girls. On it was an elaborate rail running overhead, which would be used to keep the girls bound tightly but still allow them to move along on the stage to wherever Michael desired them to be placed in an manner to best show them off to the clients. They would be brought in pairs, Becky and her mother Sara; Lyn and Michelle; and the twins, Jacqueline and Charlotte. The audience had already arrived, sitting in the seats, about 25 of them from all walks of life. 

There were the usual Japanese businessman, mostly older, powerful men in their sixties that desired white, blonde Americans. They didn’t want them just to fuck them. They liked to play with them, forcing them to perform, to do things that their Japanese wives or mistresses would not do. Elaborate bondage and use of torture furniture were among the favorites. Then, there were the Arabs. Rich princes, use to having large harems, but bored with the usual Arab girls. Their hatred of Americans made it even better, loving to torture their purchases. Finally, there were the Russians. New customers in the last five years since the fall of Communism, coming to get girls for the sprawling pornography industry that flourished in Russia and Eastern Europe. Unlike pornography in the United States, their pornography industry included rape and snuff films, and the younger the better.

The first girls up for auction would be the twins, Charlotte and Jacqueline, the prim and proper Southern girls. Although they were twenty years old, Michael learned that they were both virgins. He had never done this before, but he chose to keep their virginity intact, hoping for a larger price for such an unusual pair of girls. They were identical twins, 5 feet 5 inches tall, long brown hair that hung down below their shoulders. Brown eyes, pale complexions and the fullest set of lips that you had ever seen graced these beauties. Their southern drawl could almost make you cum when they begged. And beg they had done a lot of since their capture. While not raped, they were stripped repeatedly and forced to cum under expert masturbating fingers and tongues. They had been taught that their bodies were no longer their own.

“Gentlemen, our first set of girls is Jacqueline and Charlotte, an identical pair of twins from the American south. What makes them unusual is that they are both virgins, prim and proper Southern girls just waiting to be taught to please. They will be sold only as a set; I wouldn’t want to break up a family like that,” he added with an evil chuckle. “There are many interesting things you can do with these girls together. Imagine. Forcing these twins to have girl sex or as part of a threesome; two exciting girls ready to please you.” Michael spoke into a microphone as he saw the girls entering from the side of the stage, knowing all eyes were waiting to catch their first glimpse of the girls. They didn’t have to wait long, the sound of shuffling bare feet sounding out in the room.

They were both so embarrassed as they were prodded onto the stage by the man behind them, a cattle prod in his hand, a prior sudden jab with the electrical probe on their backside giving them a feeling of what would be in store for them if they failed to strictly obey orders. They were wearing the outfits they were given, schoolgirl outfits, but for a girl of twelve. They wore white, button-down blouses, tight, molded over their bra-less breasts, the buttons straining to break free. Their perky tits were quite sufficient to stand up by themselves, their nipples pressed against the cold fabric, blue blazers temporarily hiding their hard nipples from the crowd. They each wore blue and white plaid skirts, way too short, riding high up their thighs, a pair of white thigh-high stockings highlighting their long legs, a pair of black patent leather shoes completing the outfit, hair pulled into ponytails tied tightly in the back. 

Their arms were bound high, each attached to a pulley in the track above, grouped tightly together, the guard poking them in the ass with the probe, but not shooting them with electricity, the girls bracing for another electrical shock, trembling, their nerves in shambles. They walked slowly, forced to stand on tip toes, the pull of the rope on their arms keeping them balanced precariously, highlighting the shapely calves, as they moved in front of the almost all male audience. They had been threatened with a large, red ball gag if they talked, although screaming was allowed and encouraged. The audience loved the screams of the girls.

All watched as they came into view, frightened looks on their faces, tears running down their cheeks. With these outfits, they looked so young, something the Russians loved. “Welcome, Jacqueline and Charlotte, though I’d be damned if I can tell the difference between you,” Michael jokingly added. “Hold them right here for now, Steve,” watching as they faced the audience. He moved his hand up to the cheek of one of the girls, wiping a tear from her cheek, “be a good girl or it’s the cattle probe for you,” he whispered in her ear, loud enough for the sister to hear, but not the audience. He saw the fear in her eyes; a fear that he knew was well deserved because before the end of the day they would each lose their virginity and face much more. “I will start with Charlotte,” looking for confirmation in her eyes, “excuse me, Jacqueline. These girls have such lovely bodies and they respond well to humiliation.” He moved behind Jacqueline, a knife glinting in the bright light, her eyes following the long, sharp blade. “Don’t worry, it’s just for your clothes. You want to show these gentlemen your lovely naked body, don’t you?” He watched her face turn crimson in shame at the thought of being stripped naked while she hung like a carcass of beef.

Jacqueline felt the blue blazed cut quickly from her body, feeling the slashed material fall to the ground in front of her. She looked down, confirming that her nipples were already hard and so publicly displayed pushing out the cold, harsh material of her blouse.

“Yes, even Jacqueline knows how nicely the blouse rubs against her nipples and makes them stick out.” His hands reached around from behind her to slowly tickle her sides as he moved towards her breasts, feeling her jerk around on the rope, rubbing against his hard cock pressed against her virgin ass. “See how nicely she moves, imagine her pussy around your cock as she moves up and down, her silky insides massaging your hard cock inside her,” teasing the audience into bidding on her. He felt her shudder, her ass pushing back against his as his big hands grabbed her near naked breasts, feeling her heart racing under his fingertips. “Such firm tits, nice size, very resilient.” His hands squeezed them, hearing soft groans from her lips, squeezing harder, not disappointed, as her moans grew louder. “Let’s show the gentlemen your naked tits, Jacqueline, you want to do that, don’t you?” He squeezed her breasts even harder, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh. 

Jacqueline nodded her head, her mouth grimacing in pain. She felt him squeeze harder, “yes, show them my naked breasts,” she finally spit out, wanting to end the painful gripping of her flesh, never having been treated so roughly before.

“Good girl, Jacqueline,” he whispered in her ear, his hands moving down the buttons, slowly revealing the tanned skin beneath, pulling the blouse open enough to tease the guests, but not yet completely revealing her, wanting to tease them. He pulled it out of her skirt, her blouse hanging to the sides.

Jacqueline looked down, the cleavage between her breasts now grossly exposed, the white skin of her twin globes highlighted by her tanned body, contrasting the colors. Her nipples were barely covered, the edge of the blouse rubbing harshly over the hardened buds, ashamed at how they seemed to be so stimulated by the forced stripping of her clothes.

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