Black Slave Auction Ch 06

It all started with "welcome to the auction". Who would have known that four little words would alter my future forever? I had taken on this undercover work for my job at the newspaper. I believed in this noble prize winning article in the making. I found it hard to believe that there were people out there fabricating a black slave/ white master lifestyle. Sure I had read the red room books and seen the leather clad women on television, but this was a whole other level of crazy.

As hard as it was to believe when this all started, is as true as it would become. Not only were people doing this, but a lot of people, and they enjoyed it. Aubrey had initiated me into the auction and told me that my term as a slave would last a month. She said it so stone faced, like a month acting like a slave is a normal course of action. Standing on the precipice of the biggest decision of my life made it feel much longer. Seeing light eyes and pale skin just below the auction block had made it seem like an eternity.

This is the last day of the month, and it is the day I decide if I go home. My home isn't much, but it is mine. It would be the first mine that I would recognize in the last thirty days. I wanted to lie on my couch and eat my food, but there was something holding me here.

I think back on the first time seeing Shara's light brown face. Her height was overshadowed by her innocence. Even her jealousy had this innocent tone that I couldn't recognize in myself. There were so many things I hated about the smug jealous face, which always seemed to be around. I think it was me that I really hated. I came to love her in my own way. I would even come to make love to her, for Master's pleasure and my own. She was so soft beneath me that I felt like I was making love to a pillow instead of a woman. The wetness she garnered for me was genuine and nice. I would always remember her.

I think about being in the penthouse dressed as a movie star and feeling like a fatted calf. She was there then. The dress wasn't me and the straightened hair certainly wasn't me, but in a way it was. She had reassured me that it was what Master wanted and surprisingly, that was enough. I had seen myself as beautiful for the first time ever. With someone else seeing me as beautiful, I was able to look at myself through different eyes.

Beautiful wasn't my only feeling though. The nerves coursing through my veins as I was presented to who would be known only as Master nearly crippled me. There he stood, Master, a titan of a man with cold green eyes and graying hair. He was completely aware of himself and aware of me. Even when he would talk to me about the fact that he wasn't enough for me, those words just added to his awareness. He could move heaven and earth if he wanted to.

Nothing about Master was conventionally sexy, but ever thing about him was commanding. The way he wanted me played daintily in my loins. It still does. It frightens me and stills me all at once. I am water around him. He is stone.

I remember the first time he called me, "stupid little nigger girl." I had blushed at the truthful words. Only a stupid woman would put herself in the position that I'd gotten myself in to. He said he would wash me from head to toe that night but I had to wait until many nights later. I had waited too, on bated breath, I found myself waiting a lot. The anticipation would build within me like a second orgasm.

One night he came to my room. He didn't speak. He just went to the bathroom and drew me a warm bath. When I slipped my foot inside that water, it was almost an awakening. He helped lower me into the tub my breasts were above the water where he took a sponge and slowly washed each one, careful of the chocolate nipples. Every tingling touch of his thick fingers relaxed me. My chocolate nipples seemed much larger mirrored by the still water.

"You are so dark," he purred continuing down my stomach and almost to my thighs. He liked to make me wait before he would touch my sex. My whole body blushed red underneath him. We had broken down the barrier. I could be myself around him.

"Do you want to join me?" I don't know why I asked him but he did. I could see in his eyes that he did. I became accustom to being used for his pleasure. I'll never say it aloud, but it was my pleasure to serve the white man.

He strips his clothes off and shares the extra large tub with me as he pulls me close against his wrinkled flesh. The fact that he is aged only added to the effects of me being submissive to him. I would spend days wondering about him and how he came to be this man. I would wonder if he ever loved someone who was as dark as me. I wondered about his wife that night, and why she wasn't enough for him. He is careful not to cum inside me, and I know I'm not enough for him. Maybe, no one is enough for him?

Reminiscing, I think about the tobacco smells that will never come out of my hair. Master liked to smoke and I was privy to each delicate whiff of him. Even the bath didn't wash away his smell. His smell is engrained in me now. He toys with me. Sometimes he is gentle and sometimes harsh. He seemed to really feed off my fear.

Being chained to the bed after the warm bath is only as euphoric as the dreams that haunt me. I think about him, never letting me go. The chains tighten around my wrists as he takes a feather down along my abdomen. He is watching me squirm.

He says he can't live without me and somewhere deep inside, I believe him. I want to be the only one, to one person, one time in my life. Master makes me feel like I'm the only one as he stares with his green eyes. I know I'm not however because he still refuses to cum inside me.

I see his eyes and I see other eyes as well. There are his wife's blue eyes and his child's eyes that like Master stare at me knowingly. Master is a man of mystery, and he doesn't leave much for my investigation. Instead he interrogates with his eyes. He watches me with his eyes.

One more set of eyes I will remember if I choose to leave here, his brother Michael. His eyes the same as Master's with much deeper intent. He willed me in a way that no man should ever will a woman. He watched me, as I masturbated on the bed for him. He lavished in the way that I didn't really want to defy my Master. Master is a word that relates to so many people right now. I could choose to run away with Michael, but only if he let me.

I have love for them all. It is the weird kind of love that sometimes people develop for their captors. The love I have for Shara makes me really start to think about myself and the way I have been affected by this journey. There have been punishments, rewards, and I have barely gotten enough information for a column, let alone and expose'. I'm damaged and healed all at the same time. I think a million thoughts, but the night is just beginning. I will make my choice in the morning.

At nine p.m. I'm brought to Master's bedroom. Someone else brings me. She is a tiny black girl that I've never seen before. I have no room for her, so I don't wonder about her. Instead I'm happy to be asked to the presence of Master. I've only caught glimpses of his room before, so standing inside this colorless room, I start to really take it all in. Master really likes the muteness of it all. There is nothing in his room that would distinguish him from any other white male of the south. He has no color. He likes to be able to choose to add people as decorations instead of items. For now, I am his artwork.

"You have a big decision tomorrow," he says beckoning me to his placid four poster bed, "I'm afraid that tonight won't make it any easier for you."

I still. Nothing he has ever done has made something easier for me. I stand in the middle of the room feeling far from easy.

"Do you want me?" I ask the question but I'm not sure what it refers to. I'm sure he wants my body, but he could have more if he only asked for it. I want him to ask for it.

"Do you want me?" I repeat with my eyes alight with as much fire as I can muster. I stare at him and past him at the same time. I wait for him to respond. I can't move until he responds.

"I want you on your knees," he responds in his gruff tone, "I want you begging like the nigger slut that you are."

I drop to my knees looking up at him and I can tell from the bulge in his pants that I've made him happy. He only gives me something solid when he's happy. I falter a bit on my knees now. There are so many emotions pooling through me. He sits on the edge of the bed nearly straddling my face. His hands reach out to my straightened hair. I move my face against his leg. I find comfort in the way he pets me. I practically purr against his legs.

"You are a good little nigger aren't you," he says lifting my face with only two fingers, "you have learned so much."

With those two fingers he lifts me to my feet. I'm facing him and his green eyes are set ablaze. He kisses me. It is passionate and all encompassing. His tobacco smeared breath is hot against my lips. I kiss him back giving him the full force of my tongue. His hands play gently in my hair. I moan against him. It is the first romantic moment we've had. I can't break the kiss.

His hands fall gently to my breasts. He cuddles them. Gently he presses and my nipples harden under his hand. He removes my right breast from the sheer fabric and places it delicately into his mouth. A tremor blares through me. Now his hands are at my thighs. The dress is removed and I can feel the weight of him pressed against my naked frame. He is so reckless.

He places me on to the bed. Removing his clothes he climbs on top of me. His hands and mouth make quick work of every inch of my body. The first orgasm escapes me long before he penetrates me. I'm a shaking wet mess as he places his member at the entrance of me.

"I don't want you to go," he murmurs, "I always wanted you to be mine."

He enters me and the thickness of his cock makes me tense. He is wading into me with every inch of himself. I can feel his cock harden and I know he is getting close. In the back of my mind, I don't want him to pull out.

"Don't stop," is all I manage getting out on the verge of another orgasm.

He pushes in to me again. His weight is almost suffocating me. I use my hands to scratch along his arms. My body starts to quiver and quake. I can barely breathe the orgasm is so intense. It takes over me and at the same time takes over him. He cums. Warm liquid flows inside me. I'm enough. I squeeze my pelvic muscles so that nothing escapes. Happiness is me.

Around ten we are laying in each other's arms. I know that I could fall asleep like this. I curl my hands into the dark hair covering his chest. His hand is at my backside. His large hand cups my backside and I suddenly feel so small.

"Stay if you want," he prompts me. I contemplate it. I know what he means by the word stay and that is what makes me leave. My room is the only place I can be alone. I need to be alone in order to make any kind of individual decision.

Alone in my room around midnight I hear the sounds of night just outside my open window. Crickets chirp where there is usually silence. I guess these creatures want a say in my choice as well.

I don't know who I am anymore. I place my head in my hands. I guess I never knew who I was. Rain starts to pour outside. I can hear the drips and yet they seem so far away. It is the first rain since I've been away. I had forgotten the weather being here. I had forgotten most everything being here. I curl up in my large blanket and I cry. The sound is mimicked by the rain. I am coddled by the rain.

Michael awakes me three hours later. I stare up at him as he stands next to my bed. His hand reaches out to me, a life raft.

"What are you doing here?"

He kisses me, and it is the same sadistic Michael that I remember. He is toying with me no doubt because it is my last day. He crawls into bed with me as he holds my body close to his on the bed. There is warmness here. I push my body closer to his until we are almost one individual.

"I have a surprise for you," he says as if we are lovers.

"For me? You shouldn't have," I play along.

He leads me from my room and down the stairs to the cold floor of the living room. It is pitch-black and Master is no doubt in bed. Even asleep I have no doubt that he is aware of my misfortune. His brother is the Catch-22. I am damned if I do and damned if I don't with him and the worst part is that he knows all this and feeds off of it like a leech. He is worse than all the others in the façade because the way he owns is natural.

Still I hold his hand and let him lead me through the dark house. Like two lovers we bump into each other and bump away again. He shields me as we pass the moistening window which is open and welcoming the misty rain. He sits me on a sofa in one of the parlors with his hands encasing my own. All I can see in the darkness are his eyes. He moves in front of the window and I can see all of him again.

"I don't buy it," he says slowly.

"What?" I'm caught off guard.

"You are not like the other girls who have come here," he says holding my face firmly in his hands, "who are you and what are you doing here?"

I can almost see the precipice. I want to tell him the truth because I seek to tell anyone the truth. I feel all alone here. I don't want to feel all alone here anymore. I choose to trust him with the whole story.

"I'm a reporter," I sigh.

"Oh my, you are a wicked little cunt aren't you," he says pushing me into his chest.

"You can't tell you brother," I plead.

"And why would I not?" He seems exasperated by the conversation.

"Because," I realize it all the more now, "I'm in love with him."

It is like the point in the movie where the girl has overcome all the obstacles to get to a point where the audience knew she should have been long ago. I'm here now and I'm sure now. The truth is that I do love him and he me. I could choose to stay under him now. I could choose to ask about becoming his permanent slave. There has to be a permanent to this. Shara seems to have been around for quite some time. My eyes are lightened now. I breathe deeper now. Then I hear it the familiar footsteps entering the room. She clicks her heels just as she rounds the corner. Even in heels her walk is specific and pointed.

"You are a stupid cunt aren't you!" Shara is yelling now and the slap she lays on me has all of her force behind it. My face instantly reddens under her hand.

I stare up at her. This is the same woman I've made love to and loved, overtaken by jealousy. Her eyes pulsate with fury.

"Tie her up," she instructs to Micheal.

He pulls rope from somewhere and begins to tie it around my wrists. I've never seen him comply. There is something about Shara that awakens him.

"You thought you had us all fooled. You thought you had me fooled," she says as anger swells her eyes.

"I'm being honest now," I manage to get out just before the ball gag is placed into my slick mouth.

"I want to watch you fuck her," Shara says madness overtaking her; "I want to see what all the fuss is about. Tasting her did not control me, but maybe there is something she does with you. You fell for her just like your stupid brother."

He kisses my gagged mouth allowing all the saliva to soil between us. Roughly he palms my breasts. She is cackling just beyond us now.

"My brother calls you a nigger," he says looking at me now, "I think the rest of us have been too good to you."