Debbie and the Slave Auction 05

"Naomi, Katrina, Evgenia and the "Open Drawers" live drawing session"

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Naomi flicked off the light switch and pulled the door shut behind her. She walked down the corridor towards the staircase. It had just turned 6:00 pm, the end of her Tuesday afternoon office hours. Several of her colleagues saluted her as she walked past their doors.

"Gunnight," said Randall in his pronounced Aussie accent.

"Goodnight," she responded, with a faint hint of her Israeli accent.

Randall, like most of her male colleagues, was both infatuated with and intimidated by Naomi.

Naomi was 32 years old. She was distinguished professor of clinical psychology at the medical school attached to the Gotham Institute of Technology, and the youngest ever to hold an endowed chair. Her path-breaking research was situated at the intersection of endocrinology and epigenetics. Her focus on the subject matter was driven by her own harrowing personal experience.

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Naomi was born on a kibbutz in southern Israel, with both Sephardic and Ashkenazi blood. Early on, her extraordinary intellectual faculties became apparent. She had a photographic memory. As a thirteen year old, her parents would have her perform parlor tricks for their dinner party guests: a guest would write down on a scrap of paper a random twenty five character string of letters and numbers. She would study it for ten seconds, hand it back and then recite the sequence flawlessly.

Given her precocity, she advanced several grades ahead of her peers and at the age of fifteen entered university, studying electrical engineering. At the age of nineteen, she had completed her PhD. And then she joined the army. Her reputation had already drawn the attention at the highest levels of the military hierarchy and she was assigned to the bureau of counter-intelligence and special operations.

With her stunning beauty, Naomi cast a spell on her army comrades. She had thick, jet black hair, olive skin, generous lips that opened into a broad smile, gleaming white teeth, a fine upturned nose and hazel eyes. She had strong thighs and buttocks, toned arms and - for a girl - very defined biceps. Her tummy was flat and taught, accentuating her pubis which jutted out defiantly. Attenuating this masculine physique were two feminine features - her hips were quite broad and her breasts soft and full, with dark pointed nipples.

Hers was not a desk job. She was trained in firearms, knife fighting (Kabar and Spero) and hand to hand combat. She mastered lethal strikes from Krav Maga and other martial arts.

On a nighttime mission in enemy territory with five teammates, Naomi was separated from the group and taken captive. For seventy two hours she was held by her captors and subjected to harsh interrogation and brutal sexual abuse, which will not be described here.

Her captivity triggered a massive response, dictated by the Minister of Defense himself. A team of commandos operating with drone support liberated her, and pulverized - literally - her captors. She bore only two permanent scars from the ordeal, a knife cut carved inside her left thigh, and a small notch cut into her left labia majora. But she suffered intense psychological scarring and PTSD.

In convalescence for several months, she was treated by expert behavioral therapists, who had only limited success alleviating her trauma. But then she underwent an experimental course of treatment with psychedelic drugs. This treatment had immediate and dramatic results. Naomi's symptoms disappeared virtually overnight. But the treatment had two unforeseen consequences.

First, her "fight or flight" reflex was completely extinguished. The most extreme stress elicited not the slightest acceleration of her heartbeat, nor rush of adrenaline or cortisol - it was as if ice water ran in her veins. Naomi became literally fearless - at times almost a spectator outside her own body.

Second, and as though her nervous system was compensating, she began to experience overpowering sexual urges and fantasies. The "old" Naomi, purely cerebral, had shown little interest in sex. The "new" Naomi took a clinical interest in her own sexual urges and her tastes ran to BDSM. More particularly, she oscillated unpredictably between the desire to dominate and humiliate, or to submit and be degraded.

Naomi embarked on a new life and a new career path. At the age of 25, she moved from Tel Aviv to Gotham, where she enrolled in medical school. Three years thereafter, she had obtained her MD/PhD degrees in her new discipline and a position on the faculty.

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In the post-pandemic world, most professors no longer held office hours, preferring the convenience of Zoom. Naomi felt it was her duty to be available for her graduate students. Most of the students who seized the opportunity were male. Finding themselves in a one on one situation with Naomi, they tended to become awkward and tongue-tied. Naomi always wore a short skirt, with no panties, for her office hours. She enjoyed casually uncrossing her legs in front of them, flashing her cunt and gazing at them intently, as they blushed and fidgeted. None ever dared to take her up on what she considered an "invitation."

Two doors down from Naomi was her friend, colleague and research collaborator, Katrina van T.

Katrina ("Kat") was Dutch, and had moved to Gotham to pursue a post-doc, while her husband launched his start-up. She was tall (5'10") and strikingly beautiful - straw blond hair, porcelain skin, an oval face with liquid blue eyes. Walking down the sidewalks of Gotham, she turned men's heads. She exuded an air of virginal innocence but in fact her sexual tastes were exotic and her appetite ravenous.

Naomi and Kat first discovered their sexual affinity due to a chance encounter at a Gotham art/hipster event known as "Open Drawers". "Open Drawers" was a monthly gathering at a private apartment for selected participants (no single men) who shared an interest in live figure drawing, exhibitionism and group sex.

"Open Drawers" was a play on words - evoking the crotchless underpants that Victorian women wore, allowing them to pee without removing their corsets and bustle dresses.

That Saturday evening in mid-November, Naomi and Kat each arrived unaccompanied (no single men allowed, but single women of course welcome) and several minutes apart. Kat had just settled in at her place, and was slightly taken aback to see her work colleague arrive - but Naomi laughed warmly, putting her at ease, and the two kissed each other. "Oh - so you are a budding artist also," Naomi joked.

The format was as follows: the organizers would hire two models for the evening, one male and one female. The attendees - usually around fifty in total, and more women than men, would set up with easels and sketch books around the studio. The two models would alternate posing in the center on a pedestal.

It was a BYOB affair. Wine flowed copiously and as the evening wore on, everyone became increasingly tipsy and inhibitions melted. Unlike conventional live drawing sessions, Open Drawers promoted interaction with the models. A participant was allowed to touch a model and move him or her into one position or another. House rules required - as the "price" of each intervention - that the participant remove an item of his or her own clothing.

Tonight the female model was Evgenia, a young Russian dancer and aspiring actress whose auditions had thus far yielded little other than quickies on the casting couch. The male model was Angus, a charismatic, muscular Scotsman with a thick brogue trying to make his way as a jazz saxophonist.

Naomi and Kat were seated sided by side, focused on their sketch pads, Kat with charcoal pencils and Naomi with watercolors, seeking to capture the poses.

About ten minutes into Evgenia's posing session, emboldened by the wine, a young woman "got the ball rolling." She approached Evgenia, who was reclining on her left side, resting on her left elbow, her right arm covering her breasts. She moved Evgenia's arm to reveal her full breasts and erect nipples. She looked at the audience - "Behold Evgenia's luscious breasts!" - and everyone chimed in approvingly. With a drunken giggle, she then reached down and forced Evgenia's knees apart so that her sex was fully exposed. And, with a final flourish, she ran her index finger inside Evgenia's vagina and licked it.

"Behold Evgenia's wet pussy," she proclaimed. Then she made a bow to the participants and, paying the "price", pulled off her sweater, underneath which she was wearing a sheer tank top without a bra. Evgenia smiled to the audience as if to say "what did you expect, of course I get turned on exposing myself to you..."

And so the evening proceeded. Initially, the women were more forthright and lewd with Evgenia, and, "paying the price", many were already down to their bras and panties as they moved her around from pose to pose. Evgenia found herself in a variety of provocative positions: seated facing the audience, knees wide apart, her hands on each side, spreading open her labia. Sketching her moist cunt in all its glistening beauty was a challenge to the most accomplished draughtsmen. Then on all fours, baring her rear end to the audience and looking back provocatively at them. Then standing, pulling her buttocks apart to display her butthole...

Evgenia had fifteen minutes more to pose before Angus took the stage. At this point the men in the audience got into the action. Karl, a nerdish German software engineer of slender build and shy manner, came down towards Evgenia, who was posed on her hands and knees, her buttocks toward the audience and her full breasts hanging down. He looked at the audience, then at Evgenia, and then abruptly slapped her on the ass. The blow was sharp enough to elicit a wince and an "ouch" from Evgenia, and left a red hand mark on her left buttock. As the "price" of this interaction, Karl removed his t-shirt. Then another sharp slap, and Karl removed his trousers, revealing himself completely naked except for his white socks.

What prompted surprise and marvel was not Karl's white socks, but his cock. It belied his frail physique. Even half flaccid, it was around eight inches long, of substantial girth, and waxed completely bald. Karl placed himself squarely in front of Evgenia's face and started lightly slapping her cheeks with his cock. She gamely turned her face to left and right, as his cock hardened. "Spit on it," he commanded, and Evgenia dutifully drooled saliva. Lubricated, Karl stroked his cock to full erection, and then forced it brutally deep into Evgenia's mouth and proceeded to face-fuck her. Evgenia gagged as he thrusted in and out.

Naomi and Kat had abandoned their sketch pads some time ago, and were breathing heavily, fully absorbed by the unfolding spectacle. Each of them had earlier taken turns manipulating Evgenia, and in the process had "paid the price" and were almost fully undressed. Kat was left wearing a white lace crotchless body suit, with cut-outs for her breasts, and Naomi had black stockings with a garter belt, and a push up half bra leaving her erect nipples exposed. When Karl's cock was revealed in all its splendor, they looked at each other with disbelief. "Holy Fuck, what a freak of nature," Naomi whispered to Kat. Kat looked at Naomi and surreptitiously slipped her hand down to Naomi's crotch and ran her fingers inside. "Naomi dear", she said clinically, "Your Bartholin's glands are emitting copious quantities of vaginal fluid." Indeed, Naomi was dripping wet and there was a conspicuous stain on her upholstered chair.

As Kat and Naomi watched Karl have his way with Evgenia, they looked at each other with exactly the same thought in mind - "should we move down to the podium and try Karl on for size?" Naomi imagined, and could almost feel, the sensation of Karl's huge cock pressing on her labia, the moment when her juices flowed, her lips enveloping his cock and lubricating his way in, the exquisite force with which he would spread her wide apart in her innermost folds...

As they equivocated, Karl had moved around behind Evgenia and was penetrating her doggy style, violently. It didn't seem as though she was able to accommodate his full length, and as she lurched forward with each thrust, her breasts swung back and forth. Karl's hands roamed over her body, cupping her breasts, reaching underneath to caress her clit. He inserted first one finger, then two, into her anus, lubed with his spit and her pussy juice. Evgenia was gasping and groaning, a wanton slut, her eye contact moving from one participant to another, her expression somewhere between pain and ecstasy.

Kat and Naomi stood up and prepared to make their way down to the podium. But just as they did so, Karl groaned deeply and pulled his cock from inside Evgenia. He faced the audience, holding his monstrous member in his hand, and moved around to Evgenia's face, putting his cock in her mouth while continuing to stroke. Almost immediately, he ejaculated profusely, partially in her mouth, and partially on her face and hair. His cum load dripped back out in strings from her mouth. Evgenia looked around at the entire audience, her face maculated with cum, before bringing her hand to her face to wipe herself off. The audience clapped and cheered. Kat and Naomi had missed their chance with Karl. But not to worry : Angus was waiting in the wings...

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