Captive In Dark Leather Ch 08

My husband's ordeal, as the anal virginity of the men is auctioned off...

Brief recap:

She thought she was flying to Bermuda for a dirty vacation with her husband at a fetish resort. The airport is the last thing she remembers, before waking up in a cage, naked, bound, and cut off from her senses by a black leather hood. Their new reality is that they are on Club De La Desclos, a floating fetish emporium that provides slaves for a wealthy and sadistic clientele. These clients pay a fortune for the privilege of fulfilling the sort of dark desires they could never get away with otherwise. It's a frightening ordeal, and yet...when The Woman's boot is offered to her tongue...

I am in my cage. The door is open. Her boot is in front of me. The Woman's boot. I crouch in my cage with my head out far enough to lick. The shiny black leather of that boot is everything to me. It is all I see. It fills my field of vision as I lick, and I am content with that. I don't need to see anything else.

Something happens. The boot suddenly fades. I think my eyes are opening, like I'm being pulled out of a dream, but it's still all black. I start to panic for a moment. Am I blind? No, it comes back to me. The leather hood is back over my head. I am in my cage, waking up. How long have I been asleep? I know the last thing I remember was licking the Woman's boot. That actually happened. Or did it? Did I fall asleep while I was licking? Did I just continue it in my dreams?

I hear rustling. I can feel my cage being opened. I have no sense of time at all now. Did I nod out for a short nap? Have I slept all night, or day for that matter? Since I haven't seen daylight since waking up on this ship, I have no frame of reference to time. I thought I was able to keep track of the days in captivity here, but I'm not even sure of that anymore. Has it been four days? Five? More?

The Woman had said that I and the other captive slaves would be released in a week, so it couldn't have been that long yet. Or maybe it's been even longer. What's to keep the Woman from changing her mind, or just lying to us? It's not like there's anything we could do about it.

I am unclipped from my restraints and hauled out of my cage by the slave-handlers. I hear activity all around me: the sound of other slaves being hauled out of cages. I am put through my paces to start my day, so it must be morning. I piss and shit while they watch me. My hood is removed and I am cleaned in the shower. I see other women now, also being put through their paces. But wait; wasn't I used all night by that couple? Or maybe it was morning for them. There's just no way to tell. I could be sleeping during the day and being used at night now. Well, what does it matter?

God, I shouldn't have thought about that couple. I still had the taste of the Woman's boot in my mouth. But now my mind flashes back to that sweaty, bruised slave hanging in that couple's room. The last thing that Whip Woman Mistress did was shove my face in the slave's ass as she evacuated the cum from her bowels into my mouth. Yuck! All I could see, smell and taste was her ass as I was pressed into it, while the contents of it flowed into my mouth. Then I was made to vomit it all up and out afterwards.

I can't help it. I fall to my knees in the shower and heave my guts up again. There isn't much in my stomach, so I mainly just retch. The handlers leave me lying on the shower floor, and wash the muck around me down the drain. Eventually, they help me up and wash me all over again. I was sweating down there, then I was cold. Now it is all being washed off.

I am led out of the shower. As I look around, I see that very same slave being led into a shower. She has a vacant look on her face. Not surprising, considering how the couple whipped, tortured and fucked her last night. Her body is marked by bruises everywhere. I think to myself as I try and catch her eye, "For the rest of my life, I will remember exactly what your ass tastes, smells, and looks like up close. Anytime I close my eyes, I will be able to summon those memories up."

It's quiet-time after that. I am made to drink a full dog-bowl of water. I get to take my time and sip it up. Later, after they feel I am sufficiently hydrated, they feed me, from a different dog-bowl. Whatever it is, it tastes good and goes down easy.

We are all cleaned, fed, made up, and attended to. After what has probably been a few hours, all 22 of us are then lined up in a row. A pair of handlers go down the line, outfitting us identically. Well, outfitting is really stretching the term. We do get actual footwear, so that's a first. Shiny black leather ballet boots, with awfully high heels. It feels so strange to have them buckled around my ankles.

Then we are collared with thick matching shiny black leather collars. I have seen them while perusing S & M apparel sites. They are posture collars. I can't move my head up or down very much in it. There are big rings in the front and the back. Our hands are cuffed in back of us, and this time we are fitted with black bit-gags. This is my first time with one, and I don't like it. It's uncomfortable, and hard to keep from drooling.

After the outfitting, as it is, is done, the handlers go down to the slave at the end. They turn her so her back faces us. A very short chain is attached to the ring on the back of her collar. It can't be more than a few inches. The next slave down is also turned so her back faces us. I can't quite see what's happening, but I can hear chains being attached and slaves being adjusted. I am maybe halfway down the row. After the woman next to me is turned and chained, it is my turn. I am maneuvered and arranged to stand right behind her. I am so close that my breasts almost brush against her back. Then we are chained together. The chain running between our collar rings is taut. Can't be more than four inches. I am really getting to know this woman. Even though I can't see her face, her scent is the only thing I smell now. I relax into the rhythm of her breathing as slaves are chained behind me.

I can't help it. I drool on the woman's back. I feel something wet and sticky on my back as well. Apparently, I'm not the only one struggling with these bit-gags.

After all 22 of us are finally chained together, the handlers go back down the line. Blinders are placed on our heads. They are very effective, and work in conjunction with the posture collars and chains to limit our field of vision. I can't see anything around me now, just a field of blonde in front of me. I suspect it may be dyed. The slave in front of me is probably in her early 40's, like me.

Once the handlers are done, I hear a command from in front, and suddenly feel a tug. We are moving now. This train of slaves is being led out of the room. I can't tell where we're going, since the only thing I can see is the back of the blonde woman's head in front of me. But moving is slow-going. It's hard to walk in these heels, and even harder with all of us so close to each other. The handlers don't hurry us, luckily. Having one of us stumble or trip would be a disaster, so we are led at a vey slow, deliberate pace. I feel the breath and the drool of the woman in back of me, and all our bodies press into each other as we are pulled to some unknown destination.

We are led into a room. I can really only tell by the change of light and atmosphere around me. It's a big room. Must be the same one where the slaves were unveiled to the masters and mistresses before. There is no sound, although I can feel the eyes on us. We must be quite a sight, all marching in perfect lock-step just to keep from stumbling and taking everyone down with us. I hear a whip and a command from in back of me this time, and feel the woman in back of me slow down and stop. I do the same as the woman in front does too. We are all just standing there now, breathing in each other's sweat. I hear activity from the back. It slowly reaches me, as the woman behind me is unchained. I am unchained next. My blinders are removed, and I finally get to look around and see what we're in for as I am led away from the woman in front of me.

It is indeed the same room. Huge, dark, illuminated by warehouse-style lighting from the ceiling. Is it intentional that the lighting is spotty, so that there is no way to guess how far the walls go back? The clients, or masters and mistresses, are back in the audience/spectator area of the room, lounging on the couches and plush chairs. The stage area is dark. I am led along with the other women to a row of poles sticking up a few feet from the floor in front of the audience. We are each positioned standing over a pole, facing the dark stage. We are in essence, the front row of the audience now. As I am led to my pole, I see that it has a dildo on top. As individual handlers hold us in place, another pair of handlers attend to us, going down the row from left to right. I cannot see what is happening, since it's near impossible to turn my head in this posture collar. But I find out soon enough when my turn comes.

A handler greases my dildo with lube. Then the pole beneath me starts to rise from the floor as I carefully positioned for it. The dildo slowly works its way up inside my cunt. With my arms still cuffed behind me, a chain from the ceiling is attached to the rear ring of my collar, and then pulled taut. I am trapped in place now. I couldn't move from this if my life depended on it.

After we have all been restrained this way, the show gets started. The Woman strides across the dark stage, from stage-left to stage-right, illuminated by a single spotlight. She stops when she gets to the other end of the stage.

"Now then, is everyone ready for our little auction, tonight?"

She is answered by deafening whoops and hollers from the audience in back of me. Stage lights boom loudly as they come on, revealing...

...Oh dear God.

It's a row of naked men locked in wooden stocks. The men are our husbands, or boyfriends, or significant others. I see Phillip, about halfway down the row of 22. He is directly across from me. The men look miserable, of course. Some of them look downright scared, while others are doing a very unconvincing job of trying to hide their fear. For obvious reasons I will soon witness first-hand, their heads and hands are cruelly hunched over to be at crotch-level. Their legs in back are all spread apart. They must be locked in place. They are all collared, and sport matching red ball-gags.

"Yes, it's time to auction off the anal cherries of these very, very straight men."

The audience erupts again.

"The highlight of the festivities for a select few of you, who come here especially for this. I know it must feel like torture to have to wait so long for this, but I am a sadist after all, and I get my kicks where I can find them."

Cue more raucous cheering.

"Now, we are going to auction off the right to be the first to butt-fuck these men. We have a three-tiered system. High bid, of course, gets the honor of de-flowering. The next two bids get sloppy seconds and messy thirds. Their asses are not cleaned of course, by popular demand, save for being compelled to shit it all out earlier. This is to enhance your pleasure as you use their mouths to clean your cocks. Yes, it's a messy affair. But we listen to our audience. We know what you want."

The place is going wild now.

"But don't worry. We can accommodate the germophobes among you as well. A cleanup crew to administer enemas is on one hand, for all high-bidders who prefer a cleaner poop chute. Sure, it's a process that will mean you have to wait a little longer to introduce your prize to your cock, but we've got time. They're certainly not going anywhere. And, trust me, watching their faces as their asses fill up and then expel can be quite the entertainment."

"Now of course, we are very selective in whom we choose for your enjoyment. We know what you want, of course, and here, the customer is always right. These are all straight men. Very, very straight, near as we can determine. Anal virgins, the lot of them, and God love them for that. Not a single gay-curious man in the bunch, according to the strict questionnaires we subjected them too. Oh sure, it's possible one or two could have slipped by. But I doubt it, very much. And even if they did, a good rough fucking is still a good rough fucking. Am I right?"

Her audience howls in agreement.

"All right then! Let's get to it. You have some men to fuck. Oh, and I hope you availed yourself of the complimentary Viagra. You'll all want to fuck long and hard tonight."

The Woman starts with the first man on stage-right. The lighting on the other men mutes as the first man and The Woman are hit with a bright red spotlight.

"Now, how much am I bid for this fine specimen of straight virgin ass?" the Woman asks as she gives him a single hard strike with her strap. The bidding starts. It seems high right off the bat. Then it goes higher. It finally stops in the mid five figures. I'm surprised. Not that it's easy to tell from the ball-gag and being hunched over in the stocks, but this guy doesn't exactly seem insanely attractive. His hair is receding, and I think he's got a bit of a gut. Either virgin male ass is a real hot commodity, or the bidders have money to burn.

The next few bids go about the same. The Woman plays up her role as the auctioneer, swatting asses, pulling and fondling cock and balls and faces like the men were livestock. I notice the same voices bidding after awhile. Exclusively male, and exclusively competitive as The Woman works her way down the line.

Things heat up at the fifth man in stocks. He's an altogether different specimen. Full head of hair, and pretty buff. I would swear that he's enhancing his hair to mask some grey in the sides, but he looks really good. Probably in his late 30's. Suddenly, it's like a switch has been turned. The men doing the bidding go wild. The price goes up and up and up as they fall all over themselves to out-bid each other. The Woman doesn't do anything. No grabbing, no tugging, no fondling, no listing of assets. She just stands there smiling as if she's watching numbers on an imaginary counter keep ticking up. The bidding finally loses steam at well over half a million dollars.

That's right, half a million dollars! To say I am in shock would be an understatement. And yet, how could anything possibly shock me after this week? I had no idea that unwilling-straight-virgin-male-ass (USVMA, for the uninitiated. Yes, it's a thing here) could even be a marketable product, let alone an item of such extraordinary value. However, it doesn't surprise so much that value is determined by attractiveness. Some things never change.

As the Woman moves on to the next ass for auction, a thought suddenly occurs to me. While the men's back holes could be auctioned for anywhere from five figures to over half a million, the women's asses weren't auctioned off at all. Anal access to us was just thrown in as part of the overall deal. Does this represent an actual disparity in our worth? I had always been led to believe that taking a woman in the ass represented a holy grail of sorts. We didn't need it, so we didn't give it up easily. But here, I've watched my fellow female slaves fucked up the butt left and right. Weirdly, I've never felt so worthless in my life.

It occurs to me that I still haven't been butt-fucked. Phillip and I had intended to try it this week. Strangely, no one has taken my ass, even though it's obviously there for the taking. I'm pretty sure every other enslaved woman on this ship has taken her share of cock up the ass. Maybe I've been excluded from that particular honor because I'm The Woman's favorite. Yes, I am her favorite! Everyone else here is just a slave or a master or a mistress or a handler. But I am special to her. No one else knows how to show the proper appreciation for her boot like I do. She recognizes this! Perhaps she intends to take my ass herself, with a strap-on. I think this is the way I would like to be opened up back there.

It's Phillip's turn now. Poor Phillip. He can't look me in the eye as The Woman plays up his attributes. Although I am in decent shape, the onset of middle-age padding has begun. Frankly, Phillip puts a lot more work into himself than I do. He's an avid cyclist, plays tennis, and works out regularly with our home gym equipment. He's pretty buff for his age. This is not lost on the clientele, who run the bidding up fairly high. The Woman eggs them on, fondling him quite a bit, and promising a tight hole that won't give up its cherry without a fight.

The bidding seems to go on forever, as I try and catch Phillip's eye. But he won't look at me. It looks like he's trying to will himself into an out-of-body experience. But The Woman just brings him back down to Earth every time she squeezes his balls and hardens him up by running her hand up and down his shaft.

The bidding stops. Phillip has commanded one of the higher prices. As The Woman moves on to the next man, I realize our placement together isn't random. Are all of the women placed directly across from their men? I forget about this as my mind wanders while the bidding progresses. But after the last male ass has been auctioned off, I discover our placement isn't random at all. As the Woman moves on to us, I hear activity around me. Then a little table is placed next to me. I see one placed beside Phillip as well, behind his stocks.

"Now, we may be cruel, brutal and sadistic here, but we're not completely heartless. It wouldn't be fair to exclude their women, would it?"

Massive cheering in our honor. Wonderful.

"We will now start the auctions for the privilege of playing with the women while their men get their first taste of cock. You can do anything you want with them, of course. And these toys should help you with those decisions."

On cue, a small selection of vibrators, clamps, floggers, straps and lube are placed on my table. I look across, and see a flogger, straps, clamps and lube placed on Phillip's table as well.

The bidding for us is much more low-key than for the men. They are the real attraction, and the guests have been able to do anything they want with us so far, so of course the dollar number is much lower. I achieve a respectable amount I suppose, not that it's going to mean anything good for me. The Woman watches me as I am bid upon. I hear a female somewhere in back of me finally get the high bid, and then the bidding moves on. I am disappointed. While the bidding went on, I somehow hoped The Woman would do something. Maybe intervene to claim me for her own, or even bid herself. But the only thing she does is smile ever so slightly as that female buys me for the night. I don't want that female. I want The Woman. I want her boot.

It's time for the festivities to begin. Thanks to this posture collar, the pole burrowing up into my vagina, and the chain connecting my collar to the ceiling, my movement is limited. Luckily, or maybe I should say unluckily, the men are far enough in front of us that I can take in the whole row in my peripheral vision, if I just strain enough.

The first winner approaches his prize. He's dressed all in black leather. Leather vest, black military cap, and what I assume are leather crotchless chaps. It is some sight. No shirt, no shoes, and his cock and balls hanging out for everyone to see. He has an exaggeratedly droopy mustache. He looks like he stepped out of a scene from a wild party in San Francisco's Castro district in the 1970's. Or, he was a Village People after-party understudy. Black Leather Chappie (BLC) takes his time examining his new toy. He circles around, fondling, feeling, squeezing the merchandise, and prancing around for the audience as he does it. The audience rewards his exhibitionism with plenty of whooping and cheering. BLC rubs his rock-hard shaft quite a bit as he mugs for the audience. Brought to him be Viagra, no doubt. The poor man about to be impaled by this shameless exhibitionist looks scared, as he can't take his eyes off BLC. He looks like a typical middle-aged middle management type who's starting to lose the battle with his weight. He's pudgy, hairy, and growing a beard to offset his thinning, greying hair.