Fantasies cannot simply be dismissed. They exist and form one of the pillars of a person's psyche. Jill was a woman who desperately yearned to experience the thrill of being a sex slave. She had heard stories of foreign countries where sex slavery was legal, and she longed to experience that freedom for herself. Her fantasies took in the stories she found and they backstopped her fantasies and desires. It became a need, not just a desire to experience sex l submission to the level a sex slave knows.
Jill was 32 years old, a blond woman with northern European features though she was from Boston. She was 5'5" tall, slender with a mostly athletic figure because of her exercise regimen though her somewhat large firm tits made it uncomfortable for running, but was a favorite feature with her lovers. She was between relationships having dumped her most recent boyfriend of over two years just three months earlier. She was a confirmed heterosexual and didn't entertain switching teams even temporarily.
Jill decided to take a vacation to Morocco, where it was said that real-life slave markets still existed. She was terrified that her four-week vacation may be extended into a permanent one.
She's heard about people, particularly white women, who went to Morocco and just disappeared. The police were known to spend significant resources to find those women. However, the police knew exactly what happened, and only a few of those investigations bore fruit, but always with a body found after being killed during the initial training. These were used as examples of the government attempting to help end trafficking but the truth was the opposite. Her fear instead of steering her toward safety, instead fueled her forward.
Arriving at Marrakesh's Menara airport, her panties soaking wet at what she hoped would happen. She looked around the baggage claim area of the airport where men with small signs were all clamoring to be seen. Each sign held the name of the traveler that they were there to pick up and take to hotels and resorts in the city. Jill found her name on one such sign. It was held by a well-dressed man who looked like a professional chauffeur. A name tag on his shirt said his name was Mohammed.
She allowed herself to be taken to his car where he put her bags in the trunk and they were off to her hotel.
During the drive she asked about the city and the sights she passed on the way to the hotel. She told him to take a scenic route so she could see some of the city before she settled in to rest after the long flight. As he drove he talked about some of the famous sights and events like camel trips over the Merzouga dunes as well as the many hot air balloon flights available.
Visiting the Bahia Palace was suggested but when the historic Medina market was mentioned her eyes lit up. Although Medina market is not a slave market, the idea of a market interested her and she asked where the fabled slave markets were. Mohammed said that's not something that exists anymore and he changed the subject.
Mohammed spoke good English, somewhat with a British accent. Apparently he had spent some years in England working as a contracted driver for the Moroccan officials living in London.
As they toured the city they drove past an old market. Mohammed describes the market as an exotic place where various wares are displayed and sold. Jill asked, "Is it true that slaves used to be sold at that market." Mohammed, who gets that question nearly every time he drives a foreigner past the market, explained that, "Yes, slaves had been sold there for centuries."
Jill began to react to the descriptions of the merchandise since Mohammed focused in that women were the focus of that market. In a small voice, Jill asked, "Are women still sold there." Mohammed avoided answering the question but instead asked, "Why is the thought of slavery of women and girls was so interesting for you western women."
Jill said, "Many women had fantasies of being sold for the pleasure of men." Mohammed and Jill talked more about such women and Mohammed admitted that he had driven several foreign women who wanted to see the inner workings of the market as merchandise.
Mohammed got the idea that Jill had exactly that intention. Mohammed finished by saying, "I'm sure you'd look delicious naked on the auction block. If you ever decide to explore that fantasy for real, be sure to call me first. I would love to train you and sell you." Jill's pussy exploded with that statement.
Finally, they arrived at her hotel and Mohammed carried Jill's luggage inside. Jill, still regaining her composure as she followed. He left her with her bags at the check in desk reminding her he could arrange a more eventful exploration of the market and other fascinating sights if she really wanted to experience it. Her face went blank, then a telling smile.
Jill had prearranged a tour guide, named Kassim, to see the traditional tourist sights. In her preliminary discussions she told the guide that she wanted to see the famous slave market looking toward the historical aspects. Kassim was not new to western women wanting to see the inside of a slave market that sells women and warned her that she might not find what she was looking for, but she was determined to try.
When they arrived at the slave market, the Jill was filled with excitement. Kassim talked to the guard at the gate and slipped him some money to let them in the back door. He let them in and Kassim showed Jill the auction area. There was not a sale today he told her.
She was a bit disappointed but she wanted to see more. Kassim took Jill down to the holding cells. Jill entered one of the cells and looked at the chains that had held slaves. They were empty but she saw the shackles attached to the wall. She picked up one of the manacles on the floor and tried to fit them on her own wrist. She knew that this was what she had been searching for.
Jill imagined being taken to a room, forcibly stripped naked, and taken this cell and chained to the wall to await her fate. After a bit, she got her wits back and asked to see more. Kassim took her to the auction block next. Because there wasn't a sale that day the audience area was empty. Only a couple of guards saw Jill and Kassim. Kassim motioned Jill to step onto the action block and he asked her to display herself as if she was to be sold.
Jill's quivering hands reached for buttons on her blouse to start undressing. Kassim let her get to her underwear then stopped her. He said that she couldn't go any further and told her that selling slaves was a thing of the past, left to the more thrilling aspects of history.
Jill needed to be chained naked on that auction block. Not a desire, but now a need and Jill knew it. A bit later he took Jill back to the hotel. She was disappointed she couldn't go all the way. As Kasim left her at the hotel, he said to her, "I'm sorry miss, that market is now only a museum of the past and real slave auctions no longer happened there. It's kept in the readiness in case the King ever changed the law back to the old ways."
Back at the hotel, Jill took a bath and as she soaked she imagined herself back at the market, naked in the cell along with dozens of other women, some white, and others local. She stroked her tits with one hand and pinched her nipple. Her nipples were sensitive, but she continued to pinch and pull them giving pain and pleasure. Her other hand found her clit.
Jill imagined herself on display naked as buyers examined her. Hands groping her all over. Fingers and objects forced into her cunt. As she rubbed her nub, she imagined herself on the auction block being prodded by the Arab auctioneer.
