Chapter 1: Lacie For Sale
Lacie sobbed as the metal door into her small concrete cell opened yet again. For hours, the poor, bound girl had been forced to endure the ogling eyes and exploring hands of dirty, ugly man after smelly, unwashed, lecherous man. The year was two thousand forty five. When the global economy had collapsed in two thousand fourteen, some people had made billions, but nearly everyone else had lost everything. The world leaders, in an effort to force money back through the world's economies, passed several laws that reversed a great number of civil liberties for women.
These laws included one that removed them from the global workforce. It was a genius, if cruel ploy, but it worked. The jobs held by women opened up, and unemployment dropped like a stone. Women, having been relegated to second class citizens the world over, were soon deprived of more of their rights. It was soon pressed upon the world's leaders that enslaving and selling young women as laborers and sex slaves was a business opportunity they could use to further ignite the fire under the sluggish global economy. With no women left in office to vote against the proposal, it passed by a landslide.
Over the course of the following five years, the economy had slowly fixed itself, but there were very few people (other than women) who wanted the rules to change. Since women had no voice, their cries went unheeded. Such it was with Lacie. On her eighteenth birthday, she had hit the age where she could be legally sold by anyone. The sad fact of life was that if she wasn't sold to slavers within a few weeks of her birthday, it was likely the pretty young girl would simply be kidnapped and sold anyway. Lacie had long ago spoken to her financially destitute parents and impressed on them the need to sell her as soon as they could. Lacie was young, a virgin, and beautiful. She would be worth tens of thousands of dollars. Her family had tearfully sold her to a local group of slavers two weeks after her birthday. The slavers had wasted no time, packing her away after inspecting every inch of her body as if she were a mere piece of meat.
That had been a month ago. Now, Lacie found herself locked in a small concrete cell, tucked away in a cell block of what used to be a federal prison. The old prison had been taken over by a conglomerate of slaver companies and legally used as a bazaar for women. Men could come in, haggle, trade, bargain, buy and sell women of all ages and races. Lacie was a prized virgin, and as such, she was kept separate from the bedraggled groups of women that were there for general trade. Some of the poor girls were abused, beaten, degraded, and even passed out as "free samples" by slavers trying to entice potential buyers.
Lacie had been fitted with a chastity belt, then left bound in her cell, fed and watered once a day like an animal. They had dressed the gorgeous young teen in tiny pieces of red leather, forcing her arms into a sleeve behind her, a thick collar around her neck, and red five inch platform stripper heels. The collar was attached to a ring in the ceiling of the room by a tight chain, forcing Lacie to stand as straight as possible, lest she choke herself as she waited for men to come "inspect the goods".
By all accounts, Lacie was a stunningly beautiful young girl. She stood five foot four, her lush brown hair was naturally bouncy and wavy, gently curling to just below her perky teenage breasts. A small dusting of freckles decorated her nose and cheeks, and her baby blue eyes seemed like still pools of sapphire under her long eyelashes. She had a small, slightly upturned nose. It was a feature she hated about herself, but one she knew made her insufferably cute when she smiled. Unfortunately, Lacie hadn't been doing much smiling as of late. Her bare shoulders held a hint of a tan, leaving her skin with the smooth, healthy glow that only young women could seem to carry. Lacie's breasts were not overlarge, and she was thankful, not wanting to have the back problems often associated with heavy chests. Instead, she had a perfect pair of C-cup breasts and the nipples crowning the soft globes were small, pink and very sensitive.
Lacie glanced down, looking at her flat, feminine belly. She had known she would be sold, and so Lacie had hoped for a rich buyer, one who could afford a number of girls and would thus, likely leave her alone for the most part. Lacie had worked hard for the last year, toning her body, making herself fit and strong. The results were spectacular. Her belly was flat and smooth, just a touch of lithe feminine musculature visible under her silk smooth skin.
Her hips flared out wide, perfect for bearing healthy children. The shape of her hips forced Lacie to walk with a slight sashay, even when she tried her best not to. Lacie's rear was just as perfect as the rest of her body. Her toned muscles made her butt gently swell before blending seamlessly into beautiful, tanned thighs. Lacie's back was unblemished, the soft, graceful curve of her spine swept down her body, passing the smooth, feminine musculature of her back. Lacie's legs were perfect, their buttery surfaces unmarred by damage or scars, the lightly tanned limbs tapered gently from her hips, her shapely thighs and calves seemingly pulled straight from the cover of a turn of the millennium swimsuit magazine.
Lacie's arms were soft and feminine, the muscles gently curving, lending a lithe, athletic look to Lacie's body. Her long fingers were dexterous and gentle while her feet were small and dainty. Her toes and feet were soft and smooth, the very picture of womanly grace and beauty. The result was a stunning young woman, one who would look gorgeous in any setting, from wearing a shimmering scarlet evening gown at a dinner party, to wearing daisy dukes and a flannel shirt while working on a farmstead.
Unfortunately for Lacie, most of the men who looked at her since she'd been sold didn't give a damn about her feminine grace, simply barging into her cell then mauling and slobbering all over her bare breasts as she stood helpless. The sleeve binding her arms behind her back forced Lacie to arch her back slightly, thrusting her perfect breasts out in front of her, presenting them to the world like they were some grand spectacle for everyone to see.
Shame flushed her cheeks as she endured the rough pawing of unwashed man after unwashed man. So far, not one who looked like he had the money to afford her had entered her cell. Most of the men were poor workers, just out for a "day at the fair", simply enjoying forcing themselves on a girl as gorgeous as her. Her chastity belt and the tight chain attached to her neck kept them from using her body to get themselves off, but most men were sporting obvious erections by the time their time with Lacie was up, if not openly stroking themselves through their pants.
It had been a long day so far, and when the door swung open with a creak yet again, Lacie was hard pressed to keep a tear of despair from rolling down her cheek, wondering what this next brute would say, when he told her what he would like to do to her. Instead, Lacie was shocked to see a young woman slowly crawl into her cell. The girl was gorgeous! She was small to be sure, no taller than five foot one had she been standing. She was crawling on hands and knees however, her butt waving in the air behind her as the new girl moaned into a ball gag that stretched her teeth wide. Her body was covered in a crisscrossing web of black leather straps, which, instead of detracting from her beauty, enhanced it, as it lifted and supported her breasts, the black leather framing her shapely butt, breasts and groin.
The new girl looked up at Lacie, a glassy look of pleasure keeping her gorgeous emerald eyes out of focus. The crawling woman's hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, the straight, silken, onyx strands dangling over her right shoulder as she looked up at the bound Lacie. She wore shoes that wouldn't have looked out of place in a fashion show, and her crotch was covered by a tiny, black silken thong, the fabric holding a buzzing vibrator and butt plug in the raven haired beauty's body, most likely the culprits behind the girl's blissed out look. She looked to be not much older than Lacie herself, maybe twenty, twenty one years old at the most. The last thing the girl wore was a black lace choker, a small white ivory circle decorating the front, placed right in the center of the gorgeous girl's throat. A leash extended from the leather web the girl wore, out through the open door. The slavegirl's owner was obviously still outside the room. Lacie looked down at the girl in confusion, and as she stared, the green eyed slave before her looked up, her eyes finally focusing in on Lacie's gaze.
Lacie wasn't sure, as it only lasted for a split second, but she could have sworn the crawling slave had smiled at her then winked. Her attention was torn from the girl on the floor as the slavegirl's Master strode into the cell. He stood much taller than Lacie, she judged him to be nearly six foot two, maybe six three. He didn't look at Lacie as he entered, instead looking to the small folding chair and manila folder he was carrying, giving Lacie the chance to study him. The short chain attached to her collar forced her to stay upright, and Lacie was glad for that. If it was any longer, she just might have had to sit down, as she felt her knees weaken at the sight of him.
His short, dark brown hair was wavy and styled, it appeared amazingly soft, the kind that most women would have paid good money to run their fingers through. He wore black glossy leather shoes and his slacks were loose, but obviously tailored. His chest was covered by a button down powder blue shirt, the top two buttons left open, just enough to hint at a powerfully muscled chest. The collared shirt fit him extremely well, hugging his broad, muscled shoulders and tapering towards his trim waist. The suit jacket he wore over it was made of black fabric, matching his pants perfectly.
His body was obviously fit, and he looked like a man who took care of himself. Not overly muscled, he looked strong, but was still perfectly proportioned. His clothing hid most of his body, but his effortless balance and smooth, sure movements showed that he carried himself with both power and grace. He was obviously capable of being both quite gentle, while still being a very powerful, possibly even dangerous man. Moving her gaze from his body to his face, Lacie felt her heart flutter as she noted his clean shaven jaw, his chin not quite 'movie star' square, but powerful and imposing nonetheless. His unblemished nose was framed by wide cheekbones, giving his face a noble, strong look, fitting his body well. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but his brow was unmarred by worry lines. His only visible flaw was a small scar on his left cheek, less than half an inch long, probably the result of a childhood accident as it was faded and obviously old. His clothing marked him as financially well off, and Lacie felt burgeoning hope grow in her chest. He didn't appear to be very old, probably mid to late twenties, Lacie guessed. Far younger than most of the "guests" that had visited her in the last few days.
Lacie felt nervousness fill her as butterflies began to flit about in her belly. She began to wonder what he wanted, since his demeanor and clothing already set him far apart from the other men. This one would look more at home on a Hollywood movie set than in the middle of a slave fair. He was, very simply, downright gorgeous. Lacie watched wordlessly as he set up the chair a few feet from her before sitting down, leaning against the cell's (now closed) door as he did. Reaching behind him, he pulled a small handkerchief out of one pocket and a metal hipflask out of another. He passed these to his slavegirl, taking off his sunglasses once she took them from him. He picked up his folder, still not looking at either girl.
