As always seems to be the case I was unsure which category to post this story in but eventually, after some thought, decided it belonged in BDSM, I hope you agree.
Please take the time to read part 1, unless you already have, it will help you make sense of the storyline.
Comments, constructive or critical, are welcome as usual.
Remember it is just a story.
Enjoy.
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A QUESTION OF HER VALUE
Part two
The two black guards, Noah and Yannick, shoved me roughly through the doorway and pushed me forward into the centre of the barn, forcing me onto my knees in front of the anvil.
"I took away your expensive jewellery but I have some new ornaments for you." Amira had followed us and told me sarcastically as she fitted a manacle around my right wrist, "Ones that are more suited to your new life."
"No.... I won't.... you can't..." I struggled, protesting, even as four dark hands pinned me in place.
"Silence, you stupid bitch. You will be chained whether you want to or not."
"No... I... aaarrgghhhhhhh!" I shrieked in pain as she slashed the riding crop she carried across my bare bottom, leaving a pink stripe decorating one of my buttocks.
"You will obey, whore."
"Arrrrgghhhhhhhhhhhhh!" I shrieked again as a second blow landed on my soft flesh sending a searing wave of agony through me.
"DO.... YOU.... UNDERSTAND?" her words were firm and measured.
"Y... y... yes... m.... m... mistress." Sobbing quietly, I replied feeling the tears on my cheeks.
Despite the two strokes from the crop, I was still continuing in my efforts to squirm away when I saw the blacksmith enter through the external double doors. Approaching the forge, the massive Arab pulled a pair of long handled pincers with a glowing steel peg held in its jaws out of the hot coals.
Twisting and wriggling was futile, but I still attempted to get away, the two huge men easily holding me in position as the grinning smithy hammered the rivet into place locking my new bracelet on my wrist. With it securely fastened my hand was plunged into a bucket of cold water creating a small cloud of steam and a loud hiss as the metal rapidly cooled.
Tears stung my eyes and rolled freely down my cheeks as, with pitiless efficiency, the blacksmith quickly fixed further manacles around my other wrist and both my ankles. Then to complete my humiliation, a short length of chain was attached to the shackles on my hands and feet restricting my movements.
Amira grinned at my despair and chuckled "You want to know the best part? It's when foreign white bitches like you realise that your chains aren't coming off."
I knew that was true. Nothing short of another blacksmith could remove my irons.
If I thought they had finished I was mistaken and I was again forced down onto my knees.
"No please... stop... where is Hanif...." My eyes were red from crying as I pleaded with the Arab woman.
All I got was another slap across my arse with the riding crop for my trouble. The blow raising a third pink welt on my sensitive flesh.
"You will see him again when the time is right." Her comment filled me with some hope that I would be released soon.
A little calmer I submitted and was forced to lay my neck on the anvil so that my collaring could be completed when an iron band was fixed around my throat.
With my shackling finished a gleeful Amira attached a short leash to my brand-new collar. "We still have a few minutes little bitch! Just enough to complete one more task so you will be ready for your new masters."
Standing before her, nude apart from the manacles and collar, I was completely humbled. However, I could feel the moisture forming at the top of my thighs again, my need to cum still present in my core, as my degradation grew by the minute.
"Now we can chain you to your coffle and march you butt-naked right through town like any other slave girl." Amira cackled with delight as I was dragged back into the preparation room, "One look and everybody will know exactly what you are."
The weight of the iron chain and manacles only emphasised my situation to me and, strangely, added to the thrill and anticipation that was growing, minute by minute, in the pit of my stomach. Despite my feeling of dread over what was going to happen to me every new thing that was done to me seemed to turn me on a little more.
If I thought the old woman had finished with me, I was wrong and minutes later I was back on a table with my legs up in the stirrups, my dripping sex on display yet again.
No longer bothered by what Amira or the two guards saw I simply laid back, my pink cleft gaping open and glistening, as I waited for whatever further misery, they wanted to heap upon me. I had barely been in this position for a couple of minutes when a wizened old man entered the room, his face breaking into a toothless grin when he saw me laying exposed.
He sat in the same position as Amira had when she fingered me, his eyes just a foot or two from my vagina, sending another wave of shame through me.
'Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!'
The sudden buzzing reminded me of a bee and I glanced about me as I felt the first prick of the needle in the soft flesh at the top of my inner thigh.
"Ow!" I yelped, jerking at the sharp pain.
"Keep still whore!" Amira scolded me, the pricking sensation stopping as quickly as it started, "Let the tattooist do his work."
"Wha... what tattoo. What are you doing to me." Forgetting her first instructions to me, I immediately asked?
"Silence, stupid infidel girl." She gripped my jaws in her hand twisting my face round so I could see her, "He's putting your slave registration number on you."
"Wh.... what registration number. I'm not a... a slave."
"Every girl here has to be registered and you are all given a number by the state. Marking you with it means you can never pretend to be a free woman again."
I lay back horrified at what she had told me as the old man went back to his task. The sharp jabbing into my inner thigh making me bite my bottom lip as I tried to ignore the pain.
My mind was whirling at this new development. I had expected a simple assessment and hadn't really taken any of Hanif's comments about nudity and such like seriously. And now I was laid out on an examination table, my legs up in stirrups with my thighs splayed apart as I was permanently marked with a slave number.
It was impossible for me not to cry and I could feel the dampness on my face as the tattooist completed his work, wiping the blood away and applying a soothing anaesthetic cream which rapidly numbed the area.
I was still laid-back staring at the ceiling and reflecting on the indignities that had been heaped upon me when I felt a single finger slide up into my pussy.
"Shit.... no... please... don't." I gasped as the old man began to worm his digit further inside me, reviving the sensations that Amira had started in me just a short while ago,
Unable to stop myself my hips began to gyrate against his hand, the unwanted pleasure flaring up and making my pulse race.
But just as soon as he had started, he stopped and, chuckling to himself, pulled his finger out of me leaving me unfulfilled yet again.
With my preparation done Amira virtually dragged me from the table and walked me out the door of the exam room leading me back into the showroom. Outside the window the street was filling with people now, and I could feel myself blushing as my nudity was casually paraded for anyone to see.
Crossing the room she unlocked the other door, the one that I had initially found locked, and I was pushed through it wondering what she was going to do to me next. Open-mouthed I stopped dead in my tracks when the overpowering stench hit me and I was confronted with what was inside.
The room had lines of cages, just like the sort of thing you would kennel a large dog in. However, now there were women in most of them, all silently gazing at me as I stood and stared back, totally dumbfounded.
Pools of urine and even faeces lay on the floor where women had had to relieve themselves and, having no facilities, they had simply emptied their bodies where they knelt.
So far everything I had seen and been subjected to had been markedly worse than anything I could have ever imagined but this was by far the most extreme.
I had been stripped, fingered almost to orgasm, shackled and collared and then, finally, permanently marked with my slave registration number. Humiliated, degraded and transformed from a modern free woman I had been converted into merchandise, for sale to the highest bidder.
Now, though, I was about to be reduced to the level of an animal, nothing more than a piece of meat.
The thought of what I had become in just a few hours horrified me, especially when I contemplated what else might await me.
However, it also sent shivers of excitement and arousal through my body which presented itself in the constant flood of moisture at the junction of my thighs.
"I won't be caged!" I struggled and protested, the eyes of the kennelled women immediately widening as they stared at me.
"Silence whore." Amira screamed back at me, "I have had enough of your attitude."
With a nod she issued an unspoken instruction and the two black guards dragged me to the side, towards a trapeze like contraption hanging down to about head height from the roof.
"No, what.... what are you doing? No...." I fought them in a futile effort to free myself.
My hands were forced up and my manacles attached to the bar before it was raised, pulling my arms up above my head and forcing me to stand on tiptoe.
"No... please I...." my voice trembled as I pleaded to be released.
"Give her six lashes Noah." The old woman commanded and my eyes widened as I watched the guard approach with a whip.
"No.... please you can't.... no, I'll.... AAAARRRGHHHHHH!"
The first stroke landed across my back leaving a burning line of pain along my pale sensitive skin. In my mind I saw my flesh peeled open and a red line of blood appear.
"Aaaaaarrghhhhhhhhh!" I shrieked again as the second blow from the lash struck me.
Tears ran freely down my face and, unable to control my bodily functions, I felt a gush of warm fluids run down my inner thighs.
I had pissed myself.
