A Stimulating Life

I was the first one to hear back from the Vineyard. It started with a text message, stating that I'd been found acceptable and that if I was still interested, that I should call the phone number at the bottom of the text and tell them what time and date they should expect me to arrive for "orientation".

Of course, by "orientation" they meant surrendering my clothes and beginning the mandatory slave conditioning that people like me have to go through before they can be sold on the auction block.

Nari and Elizabeth soon got similar text messages.

The date of the auction was January the 29th, however, Elizabeth, Nari and I all decided to report to the Vineyard on the morning of January the 24th.

Of course, shortly after we arrived, things got very intense. Even though we were there voluntarily, there was so much security, it was almost like we were dangerous criminals being dragged off to prison.

Three security officers escorted us to the office of Pauline Tänzerin. Two of the three security officers were female; however, they were all tall, imposing, athletic looking and they were all wearing very sharp-looking black and grey uniforms. All three of them were angular, had high cheekbones and oval faces. One might even had called them attractive if not for the severe and unkind expressions on their faces.

Pauline had an assistant who told Elizabeth, Nari and I to sit. And then she gave us more documents to sign. I didn't read mine thoroughly, however in essence, the documents said that I would be locked up at the Vineyard for five days. The legal documents I signed proclaimed that I was being voluntarily incarcerated. And after the auction I agreed to be incarcerated by whomever the Vineyard designated as my new jailer.

I'm not sure if it was legally enforceable, but it said that I volunteered to be incarcerated and abused by whomever bought me at auction. Pauline gathered up the signed documents and placed them in the top drawer of her desk. Having gotten the legal necessities out of the way, she said, "No need to go into a changing room to undress. You can strip right here."

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at the severe-looking security officers and gave Pauline a wide-eyed look and in a disquieted tone of voice she asked, "Now?"

"Of course, now," Pauline insisted, "You'll have to be naked when you're examined by potential bidders. And I can assure you they won't be any more well-disposed than the Vineyard's security officers."

Elizabeth reluctantly stood up and began to disrobe. Nari and I followed suit a moment later. I could feel the security guard's eyes burning holes through me as I laid my shirt down and unsnapped and unzipped the front of my blue jeans.

Pauline's assistant produced cardboard boxes. I was told that our clothes, wallets, iPhones and other personal items would be stored in those boxes and labeled with our names and lot numbers. We'd get everything back when we'd served our time. Elizabeth, Nari and I had signed up to be somebody's slaves for ten days. Add those ten days to the five days we'd be incarcerated at the Vineyard, and that meant we wouldn't get our clothes back until fifteen days later.

When I stepped out of my briefs and set down my last piece of clothing, I felt both sexual tension and fearful misgivings battling for supremacy inside of me. One of my legs trembled uncontrollably as I saw Elizabeth remove her last piece of clothing. Elizabeth let out a great heaving sigh as she looked over at Pauline, then Pauline's assistant and then at the security guards. All five of them returned her gaze with an icy, merciless stare.

"Don't expect any mercy from us," Pauline said, "You came to us to be sold at our slave auction. Slaves are just expensive merchandise, to be sold. Nobody feels empathy for merchandise."

Then, Pauline produced leather slave collars and other bondage accessories. Our hands were cuffed behind out backs and joined to the backs of our collars with short lengths of chain. The way Elizabeth, Nari and I were bound, we would be unable to protect our bare buttocks.

"During your five days here, your hands will be bound whenever possible," Pauline informed us, "We'll do our best to get you used to feeling helpless. As slaves, it's important for you to embrace the fact that you no longer have any control over your bodies or your activities. You will do what you are told, when you are told. Any disobedience or hesitation will be dealt with harshly."

"We came here voluntarily," Elizabeth protested, "We let you strip us naked, we even let you put us in bondage. I don't see the point in trying to scare us as well."

Pauline gave Elizabeth a cold stare and then said, "Ah, Ms. Stride, you don't see the point? It's utterly lost on you?"

Elizabeth shook her head in negation, her blonde hair swishing this way and that as she shook her head.

"During your time here, we will take everything from you," Pauline said in response, "And I don't just mean your clothing. You will have to relinquish everything, your dignity, your autonomy, your rights, your freedoms and your identity. You think of yourselves as human beings with your own unique identities and quirks, but while you are here, you are just merchandise, to be sold. Our customers don't want willful, opinionated slaves. They want naked playthings whose spirits have been broken and are mindlessly obedient. Therefore, the staff here will spend the next five days using abuse and objectification to break your spirit and make you more appealing to the buyers."

There was a dramatic pause and then Pauline asked Elizabeth, "Does that clear it up at all for you, Ms. Stride?"

Elizabeth was indignant. Her breasts heaved and she gave Pauline a wounded look, but she reluctantly conceded that Pauline's explanation might explain the rationale behind her methods.

Pauline then turned to two of the guards and said, "Look after the two male slaves. Take them away and put them in separate rooms. I'll see to Ms. Stride and assist her in adjusting to her new status personally."

As Nari and I were led out of Pauline's office, Pauline admonished us to be obedient and follow any orders given to us by the security guards.

I was led away by one of the female guards. She was as tall as me, however, she was so imposing she might as well have been seven feet tall. Yes, we were the same height, but while I was stark naked, she was fully clothed and had a leather whip clipped to her utility belt. Also, my wrists were helplessly bound behind my back, whereas my captor had her hands free.

I was led downstairs and the guard held tightly onto my arm to make certain I didn't fall as my hands were bound and I had no way to grip the handrail. When we reached the lower level, the guard led me to a stainless-steel security door and used a keycard to open it.

"For the next five days, this is your home," the guard informed me. And when the door was open it revealed a series of cells with iron bars. Most of the cells were empty, however there was a naked female in the fourth cell down. She watched with polite curiosity as I was led to the cell adjacent to hers.

When the uniformed security officer opened the door, she gave me a look as if daring me to struggle or resist. I think she would have enjoyed it if I gave her an excuse to get rough with me, however, I wasn't about to play that game. I was handcuffed, naked and not about to cause trouble. Obediently, I walked past my jailer into the prison cell and I heard the deafening clang as the door shut and locked behind me.

When the security officer was gone, I turned to the naked female in the next cell. She gave me a commiserating look and said, "I know just how you feel."

"Do you?" I asked, although she probably did. Like me, she was naked, collared, bound and locked in a prison cell. Hmmmm, perhaps I could have come up with a better response to her greeting. I suppose verbal rejoinders aren't really where I excel.

"Well, let me see," the bound female said, "You've sentenced yourself to be sold at the slave auction this month. Initially you were thrilled about all the money you'd make and maybe even sexually excited. But now they've taken away all your possessions, stripped you naked, locked you in a cell, and you're getting frightened and you think you may have made a horrible mistake."

"Wow," I said, marveling at just how accurate her assessment was, "That's pretty spot on."

"My name's Julia," the blonde said.

"Scott," I replied.

In short order two more slaves were brought in and locked in the cells. There was a male slave named Peter, followed almost immediately by a female slave named Judy.

The Vineyard seemed to prefer a physical type for their slave auctions. Looking around, it was obvious they preferred their slaves to be young, svelte and athletic. High cheekbones and pouty lips seemed to be desirable as well.

Judy, Julia and Peter were all bewitching in their beauty.

Peter was lithe and athletic looking with a boyishly cute face, sculpted abs, a firm toned ass and dancer's legs. Julia was blonde, tall and had long, shapely legs that competed with her ass for the honor of sexiest part of her body. She had this whole Karlie Kloss vibe going for her. Judy wasn't nearly as tall as Julia, but still had an amazing ass and amazing legs. And while Julia had a vampish, seductive face, Judy had a more innocent, Disney Princess kind of look going for her.

Of course, I'd never seen a Disney Princess naked before, but if I had, I'm sure they would've looked like Judy.

Julia instigated a conversation with my cellmates, inquiring as to why each of them signed up to be auctioned off as slaves. I mostly signed up at Nari's insistence, Peter mostly signed up because he needed the money. Then Judy surprised me with her answer.

"I come from a very wealthy family," Judy explained, "I've already got more money than I could ever possibly spend, so this isn't about the money. This is about..."

She hesitated, sounding uncomfortable, but it wasn't like she could go anywhere. The four of us were stuck together until our jailers decided to let us out and she had a captive audience intent on hearing what she had to say.

"I have this need to be controlled," she admitted, "controlled, restrained, made helpless...I feel like I need to be punished, as though I've done something wrong and need to perform some sort of penance."

Julia nodded her head and replied, "Sounds like wealth guilt. I read about it in a British newspaper."

"I've never heard the term wealth guilt before," Judy said, "but being treated like a slave helps a lot. It makes me feel like I'm a better person."

"If you feel guilty about being wealthy, there are probably other ways of dealing with it," Peter opined.

"I've tried other ways," Judy replied without ever looking Peter in the face, "I've tried a lot of different things and I know what works. Being bound abused and sexually objectified works."

Just as I was starting to bond with my fellow slaves, the big, ugly metal door opened, and Pauline entered. She arrived with a security guard and two people clad in medical scrubs in her wake. She glanced in my general direction, gave us all an admonishing look and proclaimed, "This is Doctor Holloway. She is here to inject each of you with a drug called libidol."

A security guard unlocked the door to Julia's cell and Pauline continued her proclamation.

"Libidol is an unpleasant drug. It stimulates sexual arousal while simultaneously making it impossible to achieve orgasm. Through trial and error, I've discovered that this is the ideal way to keep slaves at the high level of sexual tension that our customers have come to expect

Doctor Holloway was a petite woman, maybe 5'3", however, she had the authority of the Vineyard behind her. She was let into Julia's cell and the female slave allowed herself to be injected with the dreaded drug without protest. We hadn't been incarcerated at the Vineyard for all that long, but they were already breaking out spirit.

Next, the door to my cell was unlocked and Doctor Holloway measured out the proper dose before injecting me. Within seconds I began to feel warm, almost feverish. I could feel my loins especially flush with heat. I gasped and realized that this was going to be a sort of torture, being sexually aroused all day long, but being unable to achieve sexual release.

After the four of us had been given our doses of the drug, Pauline gave us more bad news.

"Today I had the drug injected directly into your bloodstream. Tomorrow, we start mixing it in with your food. None of you will be allowed orgasms during the time we're preparing you for the auction."

There was a collective groan from all four naked prisoners and then Pauline admonished the four of us, sternly saying, "Slaves are not allowed to complain."

There was a sudden silence. We had been reduced to childhood. We were all bad girls and boys and we were in trouble with our disapproving parent.

"You've all earned punishments for that impertinent outburst," Pauline assured us, "Just wait until I return."

It was unquestioned that slaves would be punished. If we didn't do anything punishment-worthy, our overseers would come up with an excuse to punish us. It was important to make certain that slaves never became too relaxed or complacent. We were always supposed to be worried about pleasing our masters and mistresses, and daily punishments helped to keep that worry in place.

___

In order to keep her slaves properly humbled and subservient, Pauline conditioned us with strict discipline, cruel punishments, sexual abuse and ritualistic humiliations. In the mornings a short chain leash was attached to our collars and we were taken to the shower room.

The shower room had sinks and toilets as well as showers, however, Pauline always referred to it as the shower room. It was a cold, antiseptic room where the slaves were washed and groomed each morning. First, we received enemas while kneeling on the cold, tile floor. Our chain leashed were attached to stainless steel rings in the floor and our asses were raised up high while an enema nozzle was thrust deep into our poor rectums.

Next, we were led to the showers and our chain leashes were attached to stainless steel rings in the wall. Our hands weren't bound however, we were ordered not to touch ourselves or any of the people who washed us. We were typically washed by other slaves, who delighted in the power they had over us. The slave who washed me would spend a great deal of time soaping up my cock, causing it to grow even more swollen and torturing me with sexual frustration. Sometimes she would use a scrub brush to vigorously scrub my already sore backside or spread my buttocks far apart and spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning my anus.

Complaining about the way these slaves treated us while we were washed and groomed merely invited more punishment. A female slave who complained about being fondled and pinched was dragged out into the middle of the shower room and spanked until her ass was a painful shade of reddish-pink and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

I saw Nari a few times in the shower room. Slaves were forbidden to speak to each other, however I made eye contact with him a few times. Every time I saw him, his ass was reddened as if he's just been spanked, however, he always looked wide-eyed and excited, as if he was ecstatic about being an abused, naked sex-slave.

Every morning I was cleaned out, showered, shaved, shampooed and my teeth brushed. Then I was led, along with eleven other slaves into a courtyard.

There was a woman in that courtyard who drilled the slaves in a series of humiliating exercises that she alternatively called "slave yoga" or "slave positions".

The woman who led us in these exercises was known to us only as Mistress Faith. Mistress Faith was a tall, intimidating woman. In my mind she was a combination of fitness model, personal trainer and drill sergeant. She was six feet tall, dressed in black spandex and carried a riding crop. And if any of the slaves were slow or clumsy in obeying her shouted commands, she was only too happy to use her crop to redden the hindquarters of that unfortunate soul.

"Inspection Pose," she would shout, and a dozen slaves rapidly took up position, standing with their legs spread indecently far apart, fingers laced behind the backs of their necks, elbows pulled back and their chests thrust forward.

"Waiting Pose," she would bark at us and we would stand with legs lewdly far apart, our hands behind our backs, our fingers grasping our opposite wrists, our shoulders back, our chests thrust slightly forward.

"Exposed Pose," she would shout at us and a dozen naked slaves would kneel with their legs far apart, their fingers laced behind the backs of their necks, elbows pulled back and their chests thrust forward.

All of the poses we were taught seemed to be pornographic in nature, leaving a slave's genitals, breasts or buttocks lewdly on display. They also seemed to be designed to make us feel more vulnerable and exposed.

There were only nine positions, however, Mistress Faith demanded that we commit all nine of them to memory on our very first day of slave training. She also liked to call out changes in positions rapidly and we poor, unfortunate slaves had to move quickly to obey her commands or else we'd feel the stinging bite of her riding crop.

Later that same day, I was handcuffed and marched into a gloomy room with concrete floors and solid, gray walls. My wrists were strapped to a trapeze bar which was then raised to force me to stand me on my toes. My hands were bound high and well apart.

"You've been scheduled for a whipping," a female employee informed me, "You haven't done anything wrong. All the slaves are to be whipped before they're allowed to set foot on the auction block. It's tradition."

The woman who informed me about my impending fate isn't apologetic about my unearned punishment. She was just informing me how things are done at the Vineyard. Innocent slaves got punished because that's the way it's always been done.

"It also helps them to be obedient and to make them take things seriously," Pauline said as she emerged from the shadows, "A whipping helps to communicate the fact they're really slaves and not just tourists playing around with handcuffs and paddles."

It turns out I wasn't the only one scheduled for a whipping. Nari was marched in and his wrists were bound to a trapeze bar, just like mine. A few minutes later two redheaded female slaves were bought in, then Elizabeth. All three of them were bound and stretched taut just like me.

The last slave to be brought in to the grim, foreboding room was a male slave with a boyish face and feathery hair. He was an athletic youth with a slender waist, taut buttocks and exquisite legs. And just like Nari and me, his cock was hard and fully erect.

When none of our overseers were watching, Nari made eye contact with me, seductively licked his lips and mimicked a kiss. I was gripped with feelings of fear and trepidation as I hung in my bonds, but Nari seemed to be having the time of his life.

I had been whipped once before. A woman had paid me to pose nude for some bondage photos and I was beaten with both a riding crop and a scourge. Being whipped on my bare skin was the most intense pain I had ever experienced, so of course I was nervous about being whipped yet again.

Dozens of Vineyard employees filed into the shadowy room and we were informed that they were there to witness the whipping of six neophyte slaves.

"It will increase your humiliation," Pauline informed us, "Humiliation is a very important part of slave conditioning. You need to get past the idea that you have a right to privacy or dignity."