My dress was terribly uncomfortable under the summer sun. I shifted in my seat, and fanned myself furiously. Curls stuck to and beads of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. My neighbor, Alice, leaned over to me to chide me.
"You should have worn that shorter dress with the straps," she said.
I turned my nose up, sniffed and said, "Yes, I know."
"Well, if nothing else, perhaps you can get your new slave to cool you down later."
"Who said I was going to get one this year?"
"Oh, we all know it's been years since you had one. Besides, this year's bunch seems to be an awfully good batch of volunteers."
Even as she told me this, the announcer came onto the stage before us.
No one needed to know that I desperately did hope to find someone suitable to take home with me. I wouldn't just make do with some vagabond who signed up for free meals, though. I had become finicky through the years. It was true that I hadn't brought home a slave in five years. I had become bored with the selection, year after year. None of them ever suited me.
I watched as naked men and women were led to the stage. I sighed so that Alice could hear me. I saw her shake her head. I was disappointed with most of them, again. Here, a blonde woman who just turned eighteen came onto stage. I yawned. There, a man who was out-of-shape and had a gray tinge to his skin followed. I watched as people surrounded the volunteers. They would touch their skin, pinch their nipples, and fondle their genitals. A few volunteers would blush and look down. The woman who held the leash would swat the butt of one or two who flinched at the touches of those who wanted to inspect them up close.
There were six volunteers at the side of the stage who had not been paraded yet. My eyes landed on one that stunned me. He stood still, with eyes down. He was lean and his muscles were toned, but didn't bulge. His dark hair picked up a reddish tint in the sunlight. I could see the most beautiful eyes peeking around at the naked flesh that surrounded him. His penis was hard, as if against his will. He was honestly enjoying his exposure and loss of control. A tingle and warmth covered my body, and concentrated in my sex. I pulsed with excitement. I stood up as I watched the woman take his leash and lead him toward the platform. I was not surprised at the crowd that immediately surrounded him.
One older man with a boil on his cheek was lifting his balls, and I watched as the volunteer's penis twitched. He looked uncomfortable and yet remained still. He was turned on by all the hands that covered him from head to foot. A woman who had carefully caressed his buttocks shook her head and walked to another man to inspect. I was torn between an impulse to tear the people away from him to claim him as my own and a desire to watch his obvious discomfort as more hands reached out and touched him.
One by one, people lost interest in him. I could tell they thought he would be reluctant as a slave. I could see that, too, in his perfect eyes, but my desire overwhelmed my sensibility. I could worry about what I had gotten myself into later. I didn't touch and prod at him as the others did. I merely circled him. I slowly caressed his body with my eyes. He was a few inches taller than me. He had a bronze tint to his skin that didn't seem deliberate, but healthy. When I came back to the front I looked at him. He lifted his impertinent eyes at me. I smiled. The woman who held his leash gave him a quick, but harsh smack with the riding crop. His eyes slowly lowered back to the floor. It was enough. I walked away from him, and went to the auctioneer.
I wrote out a bid for him. It was more than I thought the auctioneer probably deserved, but what I thought he was worth. He smiled at me when he saw the number. He handed me the contract. I signed my name next to my slave's signature. His name was Elata. I was handed a card to give to the mistress who held his leash.
I walked to the mistress but did not look at Elata. I felt his eyes follow me, and a wave of heat passed through me. I knew that feeling well. He was happy that I had purchased his services for the year. If I could have heard his thoughts, I knew they would tell me that he was as excited to go home with me as I was to take him home.
I took his leash, and led him away from the square. His thin sandals scratched at the gravel. He walked very close behind me. I could feel him staring at me. He was not used to being submissive. Every little rebellious action stabbed at me. Now, I wondered why I had been so rash. Why had I brought this slave home? I felt more like the slave of my own desires than my "slave" would ever really be. This feeling irritated me.
I led him up the marble steps of my brick home. I turned to him, and he looked at me, immediately. I was completely astonished by his boldness.
"Did I tell you that you were free to do what you want?" I demanded.
He put his eyes back to the floor. Blood pooled in his cheeks. He was properly embarrassed. I put my head up. I could not help but smile. He wanted to please me. That made up for all his little indiscretions. Maybe I was weak for forgiving him so quickly. It just couldn't be helped.
"Now you may look up and talk to me, Elata."
He raised his eyes, and I saw a sly look come into them. I was the one blushing, now. He smiled. There was weakness in my knees, immediately. Heat spread from between my legs into the rest of my body. I studied him. He basked in the attention my eyes gave him.
"What do you want me to do, mistress?"
"I want you to come with me to my changing room. This is a horrible dress and must come off immediately."
One side of his mouth curved into a smile, as if against his will. I motioned for him to follow me. He walked close behind me, again. We walked into my changing room.
"From now on, call me Taletha, not mistress. As much as I like the title, I want you to know who your mistress is."
He whispered my name. The sound was musical to me, all filled with desire of his own. I turned away from him, lifted my curls and pointed at my zipper.
"Yes, Taletha."
He used one hand to unzip the dress, and another to open the cloth as he moved down my back. The caress of his hand sent a pulse into my sex. He moved his hand under the cloth, and pushed it off of my shoulders. He reluctantly took his hands from under the dress and pulled it to the floor. I stepped out of the cloth on the floor. I pointed to the rack. He picked the cloth up, but continued to look over my body. He removed his eyes to carefully hang up the dress. As soon as he could, he returned to gazing at me.