She'd never meant for things to get so out of hand. But the day suddenly came when her bills were simply too far out of reach for her to pay. When the collection agency had come calling, they'd made it clear that she didn't really have any other options. Yes, it was a harsh repayment plan, but what could she do? Years as a graduate student had stripped her of any other real options.
The lights were hot on her skin and bright in her eyes. They were designed, she knew, to disguise those in the audience from her. She wasn't hear to see them, she was here to be seen.
God, she was nervous, staring at the line in front and behind her, three other women standing before her, bound by their debts as she was, awaiting their judgment. They seemed as nervous as she did, glancing nervously out into the harsh glare, straining to see those who would be judging them.
To no avail.
She watched as the woman currently at the front of the line, a petite redhead, received her judgment and was led away. The woman's head was down as she went, and she seemed to be sobbing softly with the certainty of her fate. They all knew there was no escaping this, that had been made very clear by the collection agency officers who had visited. The contracts were ironclad and their circumstances were dire.
Three years work to absolve them of their debts.
It seemed simple when she'd signed it. After nearly five years of striving for her PhD, a chance to repay such a large sum in such a short period seemed like a golden ticket to freedom. She'd read the contract and there was nothing in it to suggest any foul play. Room, board, and health care would be provided, and in turn her services would be sold at auction to the highest bidder, whereupon the collection agency would recoup the monies it had spent paying her debtors.
Simple, right?
Well, no, not now that she was standing naked on a stage in hot lights in front of an unseen group of buyers.
Now it seemed like the indentured servitude they'd told her she'd be signing up for was more like sexual servitude.
The platinum collar around her neck was hot from the lights and the heat of her body, her fear. It had been fastened to her, and then welded shut, a harsh reminder that her commitment to this new life was non-negotiable.
Still, on some level, she had to admit she was excited by all of this.
She'd always had fantasies about submission, but never really acted on them. The lovers she'd had since college had been cool to the idea of dominating her, really dominating her. Sure, there'd been some foreplay and a lot of talk, but at the end of the day, when she wanted them to consume her utterly, there'd been only a combination of rejection and apprehension on her part. The one lover who'd been open to it was gone, half a country away and long out of touch.
So to be here, to be faced with the certainty that she would soon become someone's possession and would be expected to sexually satisfy them – that much was clear by the way they'd shaved her pussy bare and placed spring clips on her nipples and clit before leading her into line – was the sudden realization of a fantasy she hadn't really ever expected to be fulfilled.
Truth be told, while she was still stunned at the reality of what was about to happen, she was really only afraid that her new master would be cruel.
Because she really wanted to be a concubine rather than a slave, to be loved such that she could satiate her sexual desires and her affections on the same man. If her master was cruel, she feared that wouldn't be possible.
When the room suddenly went quiet, the din of the last auction fading into a shuffling of papers, she snapped out of her reverie. The slave in front of her, a willowy Asian, was striding away, descending the steps into the darkness to meet her new master. She watched the woman's his sway and felt a surge of jealousy that her own weren't as shapely. A stupid conceit she knew, but the body issues she'd had for years weren't going to disappear just because she was being auctioned off tonight as a love slave.
The handlers – two blondes, nude save for black corsets, heels, and their own collars – led her to the front of the stage. They smoothed out her honeyed curls one last time, and fastened her hands behind her back with a satin sash. Kicking her legs slightly apart – the better to show her now glistening pussy she realized with a crimson burn of embarrassment – they glided off behind her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you see before you lot number 1372. Currently a resident of the Windy City, she comes to you tonight for sale at auction. Her skills include a fluency in Russian, a masters in ..." The announcer's voice was everywhere and nowhere, the sound of his measured, calculated dissection of her life filling her ears.
Suddenly she was afraid, afraid to be stripped bare like this, her body, her soul, and indeed the very sum of her existence laid out like a math problem for those assembled before her.
She wanted to run, to flee into the night and avoid this reckoning. But she knew that she couldn't. They'd blindfolded her on the way over, so where could she run to? And besides, she was naked save for a pair of heels and her hands were bound. Who knew how far she'd get.
Moreover, she was ready to be done with the burden of all her debts. They'd loomed for years now; tonight she had a chance to end them.
Her breathing slowed, her breasts heaving slightly as the panic subsided, affording the audience a view of their loveliness. She could swear she heard one or two murmurs of appreciation from the audience, and smiled inwardly. Despite the shock of being exposed like this, her ego rallied to those sounds.
They like me! she though to herself. They're looking at me and they want me. They can see it all – they can see my curves and they want me all the more!
It was a heady thought, and it made her nipples harden, straining against the clips. The pain was a welcome counterpoint to the lust she felt rising in her.
There and then, faced with the reality that what she offered was highly desired, she resolved to embrace her fate. To not just go along with the fantasy of becoming someone's slave, but to throw herself into it with all of her being.
"Do I hear an opening bid"? Again, that droning, dispassionate voice. Couldn't he see her, she wondered? Couldn't he see what he was selling? Didn't he care? Could he really hawk such beauty and sexuality night after night and not be touched by it?
She brought her head up proudly and looked out into the audience, thrusting her hips slightly forward to say to them, yes, this is me, and you want it.
"$50,000." Came a voice from the back right corner. An old man's voice, she realized with some disappointment.
"I hear $50,000, do I hear $60,000?"
"$60,000." This from a woman in the center left!
"$75,000." A man's voice now, from the front right.
Somehow familiar.
"The bid is $75,000, do I hear $90,000?"
"$90,000." The old man in the back. This intrigued her, to know that he opened with a low offer but could rise to the challenge. It suggested he had done this before, that she would not be his first.
"$100,000." Again, the woman's voice, light and melodic, hinting at passionate embraces and light summery day.
"$125,000." A fourth voice, a younger man, seated somewhere in the middle right.
"$135,000." That strange voice again, caressing the corners of her mind. Her breathing quickened again as one of the handlers made her turn in a slow circle, bending at the waist to show them all everything.
